No Time for Regrets
by Myriad-13
Summary: Captured and made to cross a line they swore they would never cross, Natasha and Clint go through their toughest challenge yet. BlackHawk eventual HEA. Warnings are listed in each chapter, so please read carefully. Now Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I had a really weird dream that inspired this story. What if both Hawkeye and Black Widow were captured, SHIELD unable to find them? What would their captor make them do – violence or sex? So this idea came out of that.

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Some OCs.

**Warnings: **There will be smut, with elements of dubious consent, but overall, there is no rape. There will also be angst and hurt/comfort. Oh, and let's not forget an eventual HEA.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 1**

* * *

The room was cold, dank, and smelled of sweat.

Same as every other cell in unspeakable places in the world. Hawkeye knew this all too well. But he had never shared a cell with Black Widow before. If one of them was ever captured by their enemy, the other always came to their rescue.

It showed just how FUBAR'd this mission had become.

Although he and his partner had enjoyed being part of the Avengers for the past few months, they still had their obligations to SHIELD. Which led to them taking a mission in some deserted section of Argentina to eliminate a doctor who enjoyed creating poisons and other biological weapons. He had showed up on SHIELD radar a few weeks ago. It was meant to be a relatively simple mission to eliminate the target and make sure the poisons and biohazards were disposed of properly.

The intelligence Clint and Natasha had been given was wrong.

A mission given to two agents, was a mission meant for six. The doctor, who called himself Dr. Venen, was not working alone, nor did he operate out of his mansion like the information had said. When Hawkeye and Black Widow attempted to subdue him, five of the doctor's highly trained bodyguards had taken them by surprise – a rare thing to do – and taken them captive. Their weapons had been stripped from them and then they had been tossed in a cell together at the bottom of a large underground base that served as Dr. Venen's laboratory.

"It's been four days," Clint said, staring at the stone wall. You'd think that being two of SHIELD's best agents that there would be some word that they were looking for him and Natasha.

"Our next check in wasn't until we got rid of everything Venen could have produced," Nataha replied.

Clint sighed, hoping that food would come soon to break up the monotony of waiting. At the very least, he was thankful that Venen believed in hospitality to his prisoners to an extent. The food was edible, and the water was clean, which is more than he could say for some of the other, rare times he had been taken by an enemy. They were also escorted by eight guards to a toilet, separately, twice a day. While the cell stank, it was free of vermin and the two mattresses that served for beds were preferable to the floor.

Still, it made both he and his partner on edge that they had been captured and no rescue or negotiations hadn't occurred yet.

Natasha more than he. His patience was being tested, but as an archer, waiting for the perfect shot, he knew about patience. The fiery red-head across from him? Less so.

They hadn't talked much. Natasha preferred to be lost in her own thoughts, while Clint kept checking for anything, any moment, that they could use to escape. What concerned them the most was that they didn't even know if the underground facility was even still in Argentina. They had been knocked out after their capture at the doctor's mansion and when they woke, they had been in the cell.

"Do you think that Stark might have put some trackers in our uniforms or something?" Clint asked. They both knew it wasn't because he wanted to know, but it was to fill the silence that was slowly, day by day, becoming more oppressing.

"If he does, now would be a good time to make a grand entrance," Natasha replied, her tone slightly lighter.

They shared a quick, amused look.

It had taken surprisingly little time to adjust to living in a building with Ironman, Captain America, the Hulk, and (when he visited) Thor. They had decided to live in Stark Tower for the time being, both secretly confiding that they hoped their stint in the Avengers would work out. Tony, for all his ego, was generous, while Steve and Bruce were easy to talk to.

"Well I, for one, think that watching the Hulk in here smashing up all the doctor's work would be as entertaining as a good movie. We'd just have front row seats," Clint said.

"Now you sound like you," Natasha murmured.

Clint was going to banter back when the scrape of a boot had them tensing in awareness. Weaponless they may be, didn't mean they weren't going to defend themselves.

Dr. Venen stood outside their cell door, smiling eerily at them. "Ah, good to see you are not suffering needlessly. Good." He beckoned to his bodyguards who came into the cell before him, taking places along the walls, all six fully armed and ready for them to make a move. The doctor entered after, quietly assessing them as he began to slowly walk around them. "You know, I found myself gloating the other day that I had captured two of the best agents of some, no doubt 'faceless agency.' But then I wondered what to do with you."

Hawkeye and Black Widow stayed silent.

Dr. Venen smiled again and went on, "I know you have both been trained to deal with pain. What agency wouldn't teach their agents to deal with something like that? And no doubt, you both have had some psychological training. So I have to dig deeper." He finally stopped, letting the agents glimpse him fully. A grey-haired, cruel looking man in his fifties, Dr. Venen looked positively demonic with a bright smile on his face.

He let the pause drag on, before adding, as if he were merely discussing the weather, "So, you have become my testers for a new pheromone batch I've recently created. Tonight you will eat and drink. Tomorrow you begin the day as guinea pigs."

He marched out, his bodyguards behind him.

Once silence returned to their prison, Natasha hissed, thumping her hand against the mattress. No knowledge of the situation that awaited them made her ire rise.

Clint, knowing that the rage was slowly simmering below the surface, moved to her, taking her hand in his own, gripping tightly. "Hey. We'll be okay."

"Ever the idealist," she replied in a dead voice.

Attempting to lighten her mood again, Clint shrugged, "You never know. That pheromone bunch might give us super soldier qualities like Captain. Or maybe we'll have a really good trip. Who knows. But Tasha, we can't focus on it. Remember that. We'll face it as it comes."

Letting out a long, low sigh, Natasha squeezed his hand back.

* * *

It was morning, and Natasha and Clint were being marched down a corridor that never seemed to reach anywhere. They were bound from wrist to elbow, and weights attached to their feet made their progress slow. The amount of guards were higher, much to the disappointment of the two captives. They had hoped that Venen would underestimate them.

They were finally lead to a door and pushed in. They kept their faces blank as they took in their new environment.

There was a one way window opposite a large bed which looked more inviting than the SHIELD agents cared to admit. Oddly enough, the room looked warm and inviting, which only served to raise the agents suspicions higher. A speaker crackled and Dr. Venen's voice flooded the room.

"_Agents. Welcome to your new room. My guards will release you from your bindings, but be warned, if you attempt to escape, I will lock down the room and make sure you both starve to death. It could turn into an experiment on cannibalism and the survival of the fittest for me, but not such a happy ending for you. Nod to agree." _

As one, they nodded.

Once released, Natasha gravitated towards Clint, trusting him as she always did. They trusted each other with their lives.

"What do you want from us?" asked Clint, his eyes steely. He was getting sick of this mind-fuck. He had already gone through Loki. He really didn't feel like going through anything similar.

"_Of course, how rude of me. I was bored with poisons so I played with pheromones. They are so fun. Hard to make artificially but in this case if it works, so worth it. What I'm releasing into the air aims to increase your baser sex drives. If it works…well, I think you both know what it might lead to if it works."_

Natasha stiffened next to Clint, who felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. _What the hell?_

"You mean to tell me you want me and my fellow agent to go at it like rabbits?" Clint asked, hoping Venen would deny it.

"_Why certainly! Imagine how much money I'll make if this works! A new type of fertility drug will rake in the cash."_

"Why us?" demanded the red head, rage lacing her voice.

"_You were available. And it will be entertaining to see how long you both resist each other. Ah, no more time to talk. I'm cutting off the audio so I can't hear you. I'll be watching though, just in case you both try anything funny."_

And with a final click, the speakerphone shut off.

"Bastard!" Natasha shrieked, her usual composure gone. She had been caged for too long, and now this!

Clint growled as well. He had seen Venen's work. The guy was rarely wrong and if he was, it was only because the control environment hadn't been right in testing his biological weapons. If he _had_ made some sort of chemical agent that made him and Tasha want to have sex, he knew it would be a challenge to resist it.

Natasha turned away from Clint. As much as she cared for him, trusted him with her life, sex was a line they had never crossed. Mostly because they were busy. Partly because it was dangerous to get so connected in their line of business. And Natasha knew very well that there was a high potential she could become intimately attached to the archer if she let her emotions run wild.

'_And that is what I fear. Venen went too far with trying to fuck with our heads,'_ she thought.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump, but knowing it was Clint, she curbed her instinct to attack.

His eyes were pained and soft as they looked into her own. "Tasha…if it comes to that-"

"Don't. It makes it seem a hell of a lot more real."

"I have to. I need us to be right with each other before this pheromone shit happens," Clint argued back. Damn, but the Black Widow could be stubborn.

Exhaling heavily and telling herself to get it together, Natasha nodded, drawing a little closer to him.

"Okay…okay okay, this is what we'll do. We'll try and resist each other for as long as we can. Maybe he'll give up and we won't have to go through with it. But in case we _have_ to, I'm just going to let you know that I'll try to make it as good for us as possible. I don't want to force you. I want you to meet me halfway. But only if we _have _to."

"God, I can't believe we are even considering and talking about this," Natasha whispered shakily, the pressure getting to her. She could deal with water drop torture, knife wounds, bullets, poison, starvation, but this was a whole new level of torture. Not the sex. Clint would be as good as his word and be a good lover, but being made to do it without the spontaneity of a one-night stand, without the normal developments of truly wanting it was going to take it's emotional toll.

"I know. We'll just make the most of it. Then, when our friends spring us, we'll get the sonofabitch back. You and me and him, adding some worthy red into our ledgers," Clint promised.

* * *

**A/N: Review please! I'm a glutton for them. This is going to be a new project for me I'm looking forward to doing. Let me know if I should continue with this. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **FIRST OF ALL: Thank you to all of my reviewers. I'm beyond pleased that I got 16 reviews for the last chapter. Keep it up you guys, it's amazing. Second of all, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm drawing things out a bit before the eventual sex scenes.

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Some OCs.

**Warnings: **There will be smut, with elements of dubious consent, but overall, there is no rape. There will also be angst and hurt/comfort. Oh, and let's not forget an eventual HEA.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 2**

* * *

Clint took the time to pace around their new room, running his hands along the walls to feel for any type of hidden door or crack that could give them any kind of hope. A scowl marred his handsome features as he found nothing. So, he decided to look at the rest of the room.

Apart from the bed, there were also bedside tables and a chest of drawers. Curiosity and necessity made him search them, pretending to ignore Natasha on the bed, who was curled up on it away from him, still trying to adjust to their situation. He couldn't blame her. He was tempted to freak out and yell and scream, but he forced his training to come forward, to be pragmatic. There was nothing in the chest of drawers, so he moved his focus to the bedside tables. In the first one's drawer was a large bottle of KY, a silk blindfold, and nothing else. Dread began to curl in his gut and he quickly had a look inside the other bedside drawer. Nothing in that one.

Shit.

"Natasha, I know this is going to sound bad, but are you taking three month shots or are you taking the pill?" he asked. He knew that all female SHIELD agents had to take one or the other as birth control.

"Pill. Why would you…oh," she replied, realising that she hadn't taken it since their capture. When he saw the look of alarm on Clint's face, she realised why he was asking her. "He didn't leave us _any _protection If was have to…uh."

"None. Wait a sec."

The archer turned, staring directly at the window and made a motion to speak with the professor.

"_What is it now agents? The pheromone hasn't even been released yet,"_ Venen said over the speaker.

"Could you get one of your guards to chuck a few condoms in?" asked Clint in a level tone, hoping he wasn't sounding too threatening.

Too bad it didn't work.

"_Hmm...no. I think the emotional interplay will be more fascinating without birth control," _replied Dr Venen. Then, seeing the stubborn set of Hawkeye's jaw, a slow, evil smirk crossed the doctor's face. _"And if you should pull out before your climax, agent, let's just say that your little friend there will be my guards little play toy. And there's no guarantee that they'll be gentle."_

Clint reigned in his temper just enough for one last request. "Well, can you at least give us some more comfortable clothes? I don't really feel like getting back into my suit once it's off."

"_For being so polite, I will acquiescence. Clothing will be brought for you and the lady with your next meal."_

There was another crackle as the speakerphone shut off.

Clint calmly walked towards the wall. And then, with an outraged cry, he beat his fists against it.

To say that Dr. Venen was one sick fuck was an understatement.

Growling low through his teeth, Clint tried to calm down, but the urge to hurt, to seek vengeance for the indignity that was being thrust on them, was high. Unintelligible sounds erupted from his mouth as he continued to pound against the wall.

"Clint!"

He stopped, refusing to face his partner. He didn't want to see her eyes. Didn't want to look into them knowing what he had to _do. _

"It isn't helping, Clint," Natasha said softly. "What we're in is horrible, but what you're doing isn't helping."

"And what you're doing is?" spat the archer. A heavy beat of silence followed and Clint regretted the words. Natasha would have a harder time than he ever did in this situation. Sighing heavily, he turned around and said, "I'm sorry. I'm just hate not being able to be in control of my own situation. It feels like Loki all over again."

The Russian woman slid off the bed and came to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "I know. But you said to me once when we started being partners, we're in this together no matter what. There for each other."

"Yeah," Clint said, leaning into the touch. They stood there, gauging each other's emotions for what felt like an age before their cell door opened and three guards came in: One carrying a tray with two covered plates and the other holding a stack of clothes. The third came in with a gun pointed at the agent's heads, the threat all too clear. Natasha and Clint hung back, letting the guards deposit their supplies and for them to leave. Both knew that without any back up, escaping would be near impossible.

Natasha moved to the stack of clothes first, flicking through them until she got a pair of jeans and a long sleeved red top, looking enquiringly at Clint. He grabbed the blanket off the bed and held it up, giving her privacy from the eyes of Venen through the glass. He had seen Natasha near naked before, so hiding her changing wasn't too awkward. She returned the favour when he picked out his own clothes. They were glad Venen had given them the clothes. If they were going to be in this cell, they might as well be comfortable.

"All right, let's see what Chez Prisone has on the menu tonight," Clint quipped, opening up the domes to the plates.

The scent of good food wafted into their nostrils.

"Wow, this is a change to the turkey sandwiches," Natasha deadpanned.

On one plate was a chicken breast in a creamy sauce topped with caviar, accompanied by a bunch of steamed asparagus. On the other was a plate of pesto spaghetti with chunks of avocado and more asparagus. A fig rested on the side of each plate.

"Do you see what I see?" asked the red head, a finger reaching out to slide over the skin of a fig.

Shaking his head, Clint merely stared at the food. He was hungrier than he cared to admit and the chicken was looking appealing.

Pointing to the foods, Natasha murmured, "Figs, asparagus, caviar, basil in the pesto, avocado...all supposed aphrodisiacs."

"Mind fuck," the archer said under his breath.

"Well, we might as well eat," Natasha said awkwardly, reaching for the pasta while Clint took the chicken. The realisation was sinking ever deeper into their heads. It almost scared them.

The pair ate in silence, too lost in their own thoughts to really converse. When done, they settled on the bed, still not looking at each other. They had shared a bed before on missions, and when they needed someone else to keep away the demons that plagued them at night, but never for the fun of it. Their lives were based on necessity.

It was Natasha who sighed, flipped the covers open and pulled Clint to her. She mumbled, "Pretend I've just gotten back from assassinating some idiot who doesn't know better. I could use something to keep away my nightmares anyway."

Relieved she made the first move, Clint drew Natasha into his arms. The feel of her warm body against his own felt dangerously good. It was then and there he knew how hard it was going to be to resist each other.

* * *

Nick Fury frowned at the report in his hands.

Two of his best agents hadn't checked in and it was the sixth day.

In other circumstances, he wouldn't have cared. Before the formation of the Avengers, he wouldn't have cared at all that they were taking their time in checking in. But ever since they became part of what was termed 'the Earth's mightiest heroes,' Hawkeye and Black Widow had been more aware of their mortality and had checked in on time in subsequent missions.

Now, it was reported that the warehouse and mansion they were supposed to be destroying was still standing and there was no activity.

It concerned him.

Thinking it over, Fury vowed to give them one more day. If they hadn't checked in by 1500 tomorrow, he was going to send a search team.

* * *

**A/N: **reviews are very much loved. Thank you to all who review, alert, and favourite this fic. It means a lot to me.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Holy Moly guys! **When I saw that over 60 people have put this on their story alert list, I think my eyes nearly popped out of my head from shock. I'm so honoured you all like this story so much. That and reviews spur me on to get the chapters out quicker. The more reviews I get = quicker the next chapter will hopefully get out. Okay, so in this chapter, the tensions rise and rise. Will we get to the smut yet? That's for me to know and you to read on :D

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Some OCs.

**Warnings: **There will be smut, with elements of dubious consent, but overall, there is no rape. There will also be angst and hurt/comfort. Oh, and let's not forget an eventual HEA.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 3**

* * *

Both Natasha and Clint had tossed and turned all night in their sleep, although they managed to keep in contact in some way. The anxiety worming it's way to the blackest parts of their psyche revealed itself in their rest, in the way that Natasha would frown every now and then, or the way Clint's fingers twitched as if he drew and nocked an arrow.

Dr. Venen couldn't help but admire their expressions. His form of torture was working out nicely so far.

Although, he wasn't really going to watch them have sex. It was all part of the illusion, the trick to keep them wary and constantly on edge. To be truthful, he found watching and performing the act of intercourse to be repulsive, preferring to liken it to a baser instinct of science. Worthy for lesser mortals. No, instead, an infra-red camera would be his only source of sight if he saw the two agents about to 'get it on.'

"Sir," a voice said softly.

"Yes?"

"Hendler has carried out your orders. He has placed your pheromone batch in the ventilation system for that room, and also wishes to inform you that, for a surety, he placed it in small amounts in their food as well," a lackey said to Venen. The older man nodded, and turned back to the room, dismissing the man. He wanted to watch for the exact moment that this new chemical compound hit their bodies.

A few hours and three coffees later, it was morning, and Dr. Venen watched as his compound began to work its magic before his eyes.

* * *

Clint woke abruptly, sitting up in the bed, his hawk-like eyes scanning the comfy cell. Nothing was out of order. So why on Earth was he awake? His innate sense of time told him it was around 0630 hours, even if he hadn't seen a shred of daylight for almost a week.

He took a deep breath in, and that's when he realised.

The smell. Oh God, that wonderful smell must have woke him.

Turning, his eyes darkening to grey, the archer realised what the smell was. Natasha. The natural smell of her skin, which he knew smelt nice to him before, was driving him mad now. It was the sweetness of vanilla and honey, mixed with some dark, flowery scent. It was like the purest perfume to him. Almost without realising he was doing it, Clint leaned towards her and buried his nose at the nape of her neck, simply breathing in.

As he was about to reach around and pull her strong, lithe body to him, Clint seemed to come back to himself and pulled back.

"Shit," he growled, scooting back from his sleeping partner. "Already?" he whispered to himself. They must have gotten this pheromone crap into the air during the night. He didn't expect it to have so potent an effect.

Because with one sniff of her body, Clint could feel the urge to wake Natasha up with searing kisses, and act on the sexual tension that they had hid from day one of knowing each other. His blood was simmering, wanting to act, to claim, to devour, to take. He wanted, needed the beautiful woman lying there, to be buried within her and never let her go.

Another low growl escaped him and he clenched his fists, telling himself not to do so much as look at her, lest he give into the temptation.

Although, he was curious. He wondered if the reason he had such a strong reaction was because the chemicals amplified emotions that were already present within him. If Clint had been given truth serum, he had no doubt that he would spill just how attracted he had always been to Natasha. It was another reason why the lines of their partnership were so clearly drawn.

Not to mention fraternisation between agents was frowned on in SHIELD. It could mean disaster in a mission.

A soft moan emitting from Natasha's side of the bed almost broke Clint's control. It took all of his will just to keep from twitching at the noise.

Natasha woke, stretching and letting out a soft moan as she did so. She instantly frowned. Since when she moan as she stretched? She rarely moaned, even if it was in pain from injuries gained from a mission. Sitting up, she flushed as she realised she felt all hot, and there was a tightness in her lower abdomen that signalled arousal at a low level.

The past few days came rushing back to her and she felt a little sick. The pheromones must have already affected her and Clint.

"Clint?" she asked, turning to she could see him.

Her partner was sitting so rigidly that Natasha could see his muscles bunch. He was pointedly not looking at her, gritting his teeth and she swore she could hear him muttering something about Olympic archers.

Natasha was about to ask him if he was okay, when her eyes fell on his arms.

Clint's amazingly sculpted and _delectable_ arms from years and years of using his bow and arrow.

A wave of heat travelled through her body, making her lips part in a short, sharp gasp.

Jade green eyes focussed on the pure maleness presented to her: the muscles of his extremely fit body; the soul-searching blue-grey eyes that – when they looked at her – could communicate so much, their own personal form of ESP; his calloused hands, the strength of his fingers…it was temptation, sin, and danger wrapped up in one incredibly handsome package.

"_Listen to yourself! You sound like some love struck little girl!"_ Natasha chastised herself.

But she couldn't deny the flame that ignited for Clint. One, that truthfully, had burned since the day he had decided to spare her. No, he saved her, gave her a new life. Gave her a fresh start, because he knew the value of a new beginning.

All the hidden feelings for the man who was her best friend and partner rushed to the forefront of her being, and it was Natasha's turn to tense up so she wouldn't tackle him and demand release.

"Well, we can see Venen's pheromones work," the red head said with as much composure as she could muster.

"Gee, you think?" Clint said, flicking a glance towards her to gauge how affected she was.

It looked roughly the same as him.

How about that.

In the deepest part of his heart, a tiny hope flickered that perhaps Natasha was just as attracted to him as he was to her.

This just made resisting each other a heck of a lot harder.

"_Focus. We need to get the hell out of here. Thinking about how good your best friend looks naked is not going to achieve that,"_ Clint thought to himself, shaking his head slightly and getting off the bed, pacing away to the other side of the room, near the chest of drawers. He still avoided looking at her, hoping and praying that these urges would die down some.

Natasha saw the inner struggle and felt some of her emotions bubble up. "Clint, try to relax. If we're like this now, it's only going to get worse."

"Don't."

"What?"

"You know what I mean," Clint replied in a low voice. "Don't try and rationalise this just so you can help me feel better. Just don't. The reality is that we might end up having sex in this crappy cell, under the eyes of a bastard who torments people for fun. You know, I imagined the day I had sex with you to be a little better than _this._" The weight of the admission that he had thought of being intimate with the Black Widow made Clint sag a little. He might as well shoot himself in the head. Natasha always teased him by calling him an idealist, but he was. No matter how tricky a spot he managed to get into, no matter how gritty a mission was, he always had hoped for a future. Of a life away from SHIELD.

"Yeah, well, better than a back alley in the middle of a mission. That's where I always pictured our reality," Natasha mumbled, knowing full well Clint could hear her.

Tilting his head, the archer raised an eyebrow in question.

Shrugging, the red head answered the unasked question. "I thought about it. Thought we'd just do it for the fun of it."

A bitter chuckle rumbled through the room. "Yeah, well…" Clint trailed off, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

Natasha understood. The drive to pounce and demand Clint claim her was still there, but it was like an annoying buzz in the background in contrast with the humiliation of having to talk candidly.

Frustrated that Natasha wasn't really seeing the point, he moved back towards the bed, watching her from where he stood at the foot of it. Seeing as he had her attention, Clint said, "You don't get it. After Loki, I promised myself that I would never intentionally hurt you again. And now this sick fuck," he gestured angrily at the one-way glass, "is making my break my own promise. Whether emotionally, psychologically, or physically, this situation has the potential for me to hurt you in a way that both our training has never prepared us for."

Natasha's eyes narrowed and her temper flared, and before she could stop herself, she jumped off the bed, coming to stand toe to toe with her partner, voice fierce. "Let me make something clear Hawkeye. I'm a grown woman, an assassin, and I can take care of myself. I can take whatever you can dish out. But don't you _dare_ make yourself out to be a monster. We only have the smallest of control in this situation, and while it sucks, we can't _do_ anything about it. You told me to meet you halfway, and I'm going to. So loose the guilt. It's not a good look on you. Clear?"

The spunk that Natasha showed made Clint proud. She was even more beautiful when angry. "Crystal, Black Widow," he replied.

"Good," she said shortly, before pulling him to her and yanking his mouth down to meet hers.

In that moment, time stopped. For the pair, so long disconnected with intimate passion so they could have a hard heart towards their missions, it was if fire passed between their lips. Clint's arms snaked their way around her, unable to keep from touching her any longer. He ran his hands up and down her back, making her moan into the kiss. When her lips parted, the archer took the advantage, darting his tongue inside to taste her.

Fire. Natasha Romanoff tasted like pure fire.

And Clint Barton felt like being burned.

Natasha, had she been an ordinary woman, would have melted into Clint's arms like a wet dishcloth. But being tough and independent, she immediately fought him for dominance, bringing her own hands into play and threading them through his hair, scratching lightly at the scalp while she sucked wetly on his tongue.

They broke apart, gasping for air. They looked into each other's eyes, wanting to make sure the other was okay with this.

With a sigh, Natasha dropped her forehead to a broad shoulder, soaking in the comforting warmth. "It's times like these I wish we didn't have any chemistry at all."

"I know."

Blowing out another sigh, Natasha wished it had been a bad kiss. It would have been easier to try and resist this lust if Clint had been a bad kisser. But her lips still burned with the heat of his touch, and the pathway his hands had taken as they moved over her back had been etched into her brain. It had felt good and so right. Which was why she always knew he was dangerous. He could easily make her want to be in his bed every night.

Clint felt the same. The way she had fought him only served to ratchet his desire for her higher. She wasn't some weak damsel, she was woman, hear her roar. He had been with a 'damsel-like' woman before. Needy and weak willed, the relationship had fizzled out before it had even started. Not like Tasha. No, kissing Tasha was like kissing a live wire.

"We have to resist for as long as we can. I'm really am reluctant to do this without protection," Clint reminded her.

Natasha stiffened again at the reminder that, if they gave in, she could be severely compromised.

They were saved by any further conversation by a guard coming in to take them to their daily bathroom trip.

* * *

Maria Hill could tell something was bothering Fury. When her boss was worried about something, he was quieter with the general staff on the helicarrier, and a little more forceful in his actions. She eyed the coffee mug in his hands, wondering if it would crack soon with the tightness of the grip Fury had on it.

"Sir?" she asked, ever the reliable second in command.

His eye locked on her, silently assessing whether he should confide in her about the anxiety in his gut that had been lodged there like a stone since he woke up. Usually, when he had that feeling, something horrible was about to happen. The last time he had that was when the Avengers were in their formation, with Loki on board the helicarrier as prisoner. Instincts honed were screaming at him to do something for his two missing agents _now._

Quickly and quietly, he told Maria the situation. It was 1115 hours now. He didn't think he could wait another four hours before taking decisive action.

Maria agreed and suggested they call Tony Stark.

"Why?" Fury asked, genuinely curious.

"Well sir, Black Widow and Hawkeye have been staying at Stark Tower recently. Maybe Stark put some kind of tracer in their uniforms that someone would have missed while disposing of our SHIELD ones. Or perhaps he managed to place a tracking device in their bodies. He's the king of technology, so he should have _something_," Hill replied. She liked the two agents. They were the most successful in their field and their determination and guts were to be admired. She, like Fury, was worried.

"Take care of operations until I return. I'm going to visit Stark," said Fury, before walking off towards the nearest quinjet.

He had two agents to find.

* * *

**A/N: As a reward for all these people who have put this story on their alert list, I've pushed uni work aside to do this chapter.**

**Please feed me reviews. They give me sustenance ;D**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: WOW! So many people are following this fic. Awesome!** The real challenge for me in this chapter was Fury and Stark's characterisation. It's really hard to get the snark that Tony Stark has. I hope I did it okay though.

Also, when Natasha is internally monologue-ing, her history comes from her bio on wiki.

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Some OCs.

**Warnings: **There will be smut, with elements of dubious consent, but overall, there is no rape. There will also be angst and hurt/comfort. Oh, and let's not forget an eventual HEA.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 4**

* * *

"Wait a sec. You're telling me that two of your best and insane assassins, who happen to be my teammates, have been God knows where for almost a week, and _now_ is the time you decide to come and ask if I have trackers on them? Well Nick, I'd say your attitude towards them is enough to freeze beer."

Nick Fury glared at Tony Stark, who was standing behind his bar, a glass of scotch in his hand and a disapproving expression on his face.

"They are grown and competent agents. And I don't need you to make comments on how I run SHIELD. What I need from you right now is an answer," Fury replied, his voice and eye steely as he crossed his arms. He didn't have time for Stark's sarcasm and drama.

Rolling his eyes, Tony said, "Of _course_ I do. Right after they moved into their floors here I asked them if I could plant a device in their arms. It's like a microchip you'd put in a pet, only, y'know, better quality, a hell of a lot more accurate, and made by me." Beckoning to the director of SHIELD, the genius led the way to the elevator, where they dropped to his personal labs. "They only agreed because I explained that it was undetectable by anything other than my own equipment. Even the high-tech stuff you give your little monkeys on the helicarrier. But I think they forgot they actually had them with all the missions they've been on lately."

Curbing his desire to reply to the insulting tone, Fury watched, silently, as Tony brought up a screen, navigating through until he reached the program for the microchips he and the rest of the Avengers had in their bodies. "All right, this should be telling us where they are right about…now."

A soft chime sounded from the screen and Tony frowned at the co-ordinates.

"Where are they Stark?" demanded Fury.

"About twenty five miles to the west of the town of Catan Lil in Argentina. Pretty remote location, even for a SHIELD agent. And my information tells me that they're actually underground, which is odd. In fact…" Tony trailed off, and in all seriousness, looked at the Africa-American next to him. "By any chance, are you guys looking for a guy named Dr. Venen?"

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Fury asked, "And if we were?"

"Then Legolas and Nattie are screwed," replied Tony bluntly, all humour dropping.

Fury's demeanour changed and he leaned forward, gesturing for the other man to explain.

"He's real hard to get information on. That's why I'm so surprised you guys found him. The location on the trackers is very close to his last known location. The only reason I've kept tabs on him is because he was a collaborator with the gang that captured me, and we all know that story," Tony responded.

Fury blinked in surprise. "And?" he pressed.

"He's a master in biological warfare. The only reason he doesn't wipe out whoever he wants is because he's science oriented. He likes coming up with the poisons and viruses, and is less enthusiastic about actually using on them on humanity. So from what I know about Venen, he's probably using Clint and Natasha as part of his experiments." Tony paused and scrolled down the data from the chip and read what he needed. "From what the chip tells me, they're both still alive. But there's really high activity in the adrenal glands. Could be something Venen gave them, could be something else. I don't know. But what I do know is that we need to mobilise now."

Nick Fury turned, satisfied with the information given, when he realised Stark was following him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Where do you think Popeye? Going to rescue the fair maiden and bird boy," retorted Tony scathingly, daring Fury to challenge him. "You need me on this. Venen is one sick puppy and you gave your best agents a mission that was way in over their heads with what looks like the wrong info. You'll have to put me in a straightjacket if you don't want me to come."

What the hell, Fury thought, might as well take advantage of Stark wanting to help.

"Fine," snapped Fury as they made their way to the Ironman suit. Tony quickly entered the suit, getting JARVIS to input the co-ordinates of the microchips into his HUD. Both Fury and Ironman were in motion, Fury quickly directing a team of agents to make their way to Argentina with full bio-hazard suits while Stark dropped the director off at his quinjet before jetting off in the direction of Argentina.

Although he wouldn't even admit this to Pepper, Tony feared for the two agents. He liked them (even when Natasha threatened to kill him five different ways with a spoon) and he liked that they lived in his tower. They were a part of his home.

He knew what Venen was capable of. He could only hope that Clint and Natasha could hold out as long as they could.

* * *

"God," muttered Natasha as Clint was led away to use the facilities. She leant her head back against the headboard, breathing in and out slowly, willing the burn in her lower abdomen to go away.

She had been tramping everything down since their capture, but there was only so long she could go without even five minutes respite. This situation was unique to her, hell, it was unique to SHIELD in general. No one had ever captured two agents and made them fuck each other. Not to mention they had no way of protection. The threat from Venen was all too real if Clint decided to climax outside of her – and she would rather have Clint within her than used as a gangbang toy for Venen's guards. Armed? She would have chanced it. But unarmed and outnumbered, her fists and feet could only do so much.

The repulsion for Venen conflicted with the anguish. Clint showed his true colours and Natasha was thankful for it. Thankful for the protectiveness he offered her.

But…he was right. He had the potential to hurt her. To get her…pregnant.

The very thought of the word was enough to make Natasha feel like throwing up last night's dinner.

It would ruin everything.

Her career. The carefully built up walls that guarded her heart from the horror that she had seen and done. Her focus. Her sense of self.

Closing her eyes, the red head made sure not to outwardly show her anxiety. What would she do with a child? Natasha had never really known love in her life. She couldn't even remember her parents before their death when she was a child. After their death, a majority of her early memories consisted of being trained as an assassin soon after. This life had been all she had known. The other girls at the training facility never cared for her, and she never cared for them. She had vowed to survive. And she did. She survived the Red Room, survived her first handlers in the USSR taking her body when she was seventeen, and survived ever since. Her existence was based on survival and her independence.

'_Love is for children,'_ she had said to Loki. It was her standard reply to those who joked that she didn't know what love was. She hid the fact that she didn't know what love was, how it felt.

The closest thing she could say was the connection she had with Clint. She looked out for him, worried about him, and liked him. She felt secure in his presence. Natasha had also realised she also cared for the rest of the Avengers team, and cared for the Earth in the way she could protect it.

They cared for her too. She knew Clint probably cared for her more than most, but could you call it love?

"Shit," Natasha muttered, wishing all her thoughts would go away. They were complicating things and interfering with her determination and focus.

The door to the room opened and Clint returned, looking freshly showered and clean. Instantly, Natasha perked up. He looked even better than even before, and as he came further into the room, she swore she could smell him.

"Your turn," grunted one of the guards, levelling an Uzi at her head and mentioning towards the door. "Food will be waiting when you return."

"Fine," she snarled, relishing in the wince on the man's pathetic face from the force of her vehemence. She strode out and was immediately surrounded by guards.

When she felt herself getting warm the red head realised that the pheromones were non-discriminating. While she felt a _strong_ pull towards Clint while they were in the same room, there was also a small pull to the male guards. The knowledge added another layer of stress to her already burdened mind. Arriving at the bathroom, she was glad to be left in private to take care of business and shower. After a week of nothing but a damp cloth to wipe herself down, the hot water on her skin felt almost orgasmic.

Halfway through, as she was soaping up her thighs, curious, Natasha let the fingers of one hand trail up and stroke over her slit. Gasping, she brought her fingers up and smelled her arousal. She was wet, ready.

"Shit, fuck, bugger, all the rest," she cursed. Her body was rebelling against her and she hated it.

Ignoring the need burning at the apex of her legs, the assassin finished off and got herself presentable in her clothes once more.

Stepping out, she held in an aggravated sigh at the amount of guards still outside the door. Was there seriously going to be no opportunity that she could use to her advantage? Finding herself at the centre with weapons trained on her again, she reluctantly moved back to the cell. When something brushed against her lower back, she ignored it. When it happened again, she darted a quick glance to the side and saw one of the guards smirking as they marched along. When a hand touched her again, it was a slow slide over the swell of her ass.

That. Was. It.

Without warning, she lashed out, turning around and slamming her fist straight into the offending guards face, blood erupting from the break in his nose.

The sense of victory at attacking was short lived when her arms were grabbed and twisted behind her back, another man coming In front of her and holding her hair back so he could look her in the eye. "Out here, you're under _our_ control. So if we want to touch you, we get to touch you."

"And _you_ are going to die by my hand. But I'll make sure you see me coming," Natasha spat back, struggling against the arms that held her.

Galled by the woman's spirit, the burly guard lashed out and punched her in the gut. Natasha didn't give him the satisfaction of making a sound. Instead, she glared at him, her eyes alive and dancing with hate.

The rest of the walk went without incident, and Natasha was pushed back into the room. Then, and only then when she was alone with only Clint to hear her, she hissed in pain and felt her stomach, making sure the bastard didn't do too much damage. Lifting up her shirt, she saw an angry red mark swelling slightly off her skin.

"They hit you?" Clint growled, voice dropping low in his anger.

"Yeah, after one of them tried to cop a feel of my ass," replied Natasha, satisfied she would be fine. She had suffered much worse than a simple punch.

Clint cursed and went to her, kneeling so he could inspect the mark.

"Clint, it's nothing," Natasha protested as thick, calloused fingers gently touched the mark. The touch sent such a strong wave of arousal through her she felt her knees go weak.

"It's not nothing. They touched you and hurt you when you could do nothing about it."

"Way to make me feel competent. I was feeling pretty happy after I broke a guy's nose," she said sarcastically.

Clint gave her a quick smirk at hearing she had got a shot in, but he frowned again. "It's not right."

"Of course it isn't. Now, where's the food? I'm hungry," Natasha said before another emotional moment could happen. She was dangerously close to snapping, and her control was wearing thin. Clint sensed it and brought the plate filled with bacon, eggs, toast, and mushrooms to her. Natasha wrinkled her nose at the bacon, which prompted Clint to pinch it off her plate and chow down. He grinned at her in between mouthfuls and said, "I saved you my mushrooms. You know I don't like them much."

This is one of the many reasons why she and Clint worked well together.

Smiling softly at him in thanks, she grabbed the leftovers from his plate and finally fed her starving body.

The flare of arousal she had felt before had dimmed to a low level hum, and she was all too aware of Clint as he watched her eat, all too aware of his breathing, the darkening of his eyes as they roamed her form. Natasha knew he was fighting his urges as much as she was fighting hers, but she took a little bit of pleasure in knowing he was admiring her.

"You're staring," she remarked.

"You're noticing," he replied with a hint of his normal wit.

"You started it."

"You can end it."

"I can't help it you watch me like a hawk."

"Well, a little spider in her web can't fail to draw my attention."

Natasha felt some tension leave her as their banter continued. This was right. This was the way their partnership was meant to be.

"I'm trying to lure you in."

"It's working all too well, but can your web catch me?"

They looked at each other then, and the context changed. No longer banter, it was a form of foreplay. "I'll try," whispered Natasha, placing her plate on the floor and crawling up the bed, her eyes drinking the sight of Clint, stretched out, smelling so wonderful, his muscles practically edible. She knew they shouldn't, but as the flames of her need built, Natasha couldn't help but think that maybe sex was what they needed.

"Tasha," murmured Clint as she straddled him. His hands cupped her hips, and he knew she could feel the evidence of his hard-on against the seat of her jeans. Desire was clouding his judgement, Natasha's presence intoxicating, making him want to forget everything but _her. _

"Clint," Natasha breathed. One part of her mind was screaming at her to get the hell away, knowing the severity of the consequences.

But if this was the first day and they were finding it hard to resist each other, how could they hold out another day with these pheromones?

Clint seemed to sense her line of thinking, and pulled her close so he could whisper in her ear, "Just kiss me and see if you can get yourself off by rubbing against me. If we can dim down the urge, maybe we can make it."

"Clothes stay on?"

"Clothes stay on," the archer confirmed. It was he who initiated the kiss this time, capturing her hair in his hand and guiding her lips down to his. His pulse spiked as her mouth began to assault his mercilessly, seeking that passion, that fire that had burned earlier. He reacted, one hand at her hip, sliding under the hem of her shirt to caress the skin beneath, the other threaded through her flame-coloured locks to pull their mouths ever closer, slipping inside her mouth and taking, drinking in her fierceness, her determination, her lust.

Intoxicating.

Natasha whimpered as she felt him harden through their jeans, and rocked her hips against him. She was soaked through her panties, and the wet and rough fabric slid along her clit, the pleasure making her moan into Clint's mouth, who was plundering her own, possessing her. She liked the sensation.

"That's it Tasha," Clint whispered hoarsely as her hips rutted against his own. The heat building between their bodies only highlighted the sensations, making every nerve of his stand on edge. His mind was consumed with the searing passion of his lips on hers.

"Oh," she whined, shamelessly grinding down, chasing release through the contact of fabric on fabric. The fact they were acting like teenagers only served to make her climax come faster.

Clint provided the final push, whispering in her ear, "Imagine that my fingers are in you. Stroking that pretty little clit of yours. Making you let go, send you spinning through pleasure…"

With a series of soft cries muffled against the cords of her partner's neck, Natasha came, her folds wet with release and her nub over-sensitised from her frantic dry humping. While not completely satisfying as her normal orgasms would be, it left her feeling a lot less inclined to rip Clint's clothes off now that part of her needs were taken care of.

Crap…what about Clint?

She looked up at him to gauge how he was feeling. She could feel the evidence still pressed against her, but she could tell he was fighting the arousal. Wincing, Natasha wished that he had come too.

His eyes, although clouded with need, were filled with concern. "Okay?"

"Yeah. I feel better. You?"

"I'll deal with it," Clint grunted.

Biting her lower lip in a rare display of nervousness, Natasha said, "If I can-"

"It's fine," interrupted the archer. "For you, for our sake, I can deal with it."

Gratitude filled Natasha, and so, in thanks, she pressed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips.

He understood, and that in itself was priceless.

* * *

**A/N: Don't worry, the good stuff is coming soon :D**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I wasn't going to put in that frottage scene, but I thought my WONDERFUL reviewers deserved to be thrown a bone. **

**Please read and review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I am really loving the tidal wave of reviews! Makes my heart sing really. I do have a few questions for my reviewers though. **Do you think Natasha should conceive? Why/why not? Do you feel like this should be a pure smut fic, or do you want plot? I was planning on making it full of plot and character development, but one reviewer made me pause. While I plan to put lots of smut in here, I feel like it will be too one-dimensional if the sole goal of the fic is sex. I know that at the end of the day it's my fic and I control the direction, but I still like to hear what people think, regardless of my eventual decision.

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast. Some OCs.

**Warnings: **There will be smut, with elements of dubious consent, but overall, there is no rape. There will also be angst and hurt/comfort. Oh, and let's not forget an eventual HEA.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 5**

* * *

That little kiss...it was...how would the French call it?

_La petite mort. _

Clint breathed out as Natasha's lips left his.

He knew it was a euphemism for an orgasm (which he sorely needed), but that trusting touch of lips to lips almost undid him.

"Have I ever told you how glad I am that you are my partner?" the ex-Russian said softly, letting her eyes roam over his face. "For all that you and I have killed, you haven't let it make you die inside."

"Because ultimately, I enjoy life," Clint replied, holding her close.

"That's a gift you know. Being able to-"

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"Tasha," murmured the archer, a fond exasperation seeping into his tone at her stubbornness to disparage herself. "It's not a gift. It's just determination on my part not to let my job take over every single part of my life. I enjoy using my bow, and I'm good at what we have to do, but I have interests in outside life. You are still one of the only people that know I like to sing and play music."

Nodding against his neck, Natasha replied, "Yes. Your point?"

"Natasha, apart from the things you have to learn for your missions, is there anything you do that is purely selfish?" Clint asked gently, knowing the answer already, but knowing Natasha had to realise why he was the way he was.

"I collect bejewelled daggers," Natasha answered defensively. Clint gave her a look and she sighed. "You know that everything I do is in some way connected with SHIELD."

"Well, maybe that's the answer. Find something that's your own that will make you come alive in a different way than sex or the adrenalin from a mission do," the archer continued softly. "It can be anything. When was the last time you read a book that didn't have to do with war or strategy?"

"I get it," interrupted Natasha in an annoyed voice.

Stroking a hand over her back, Clint said, "You know the only reason I say it is because you're my partner. And I want to be a good partner don't I?"

Smirking, the red head teased, "You can be a jerk like that sometimes."

"Well of course. How else would I distract you?"asked Clint, lightly tickling her ribs. He did it just to get the smile on her face and to keep her mind from thinking about other things. He cared too much about her not to. It distracted him too from the blood pounding in his ears (and his cock), demanding to have his way with the soft, sweet smelling female above him. "Besides, while we look we are playing, we can discuss all the ways to get rid of Dr. Dickhead watching us up there."

A fiendish glint appeared in Natasha's eyes, and Clint swore he felt her pulse pick up. "Mmm? Tell me more."

"Well," Clint drawled out teasingly, "I was thinking I could begin with him while you go and chase the bastard who sucker punched you in the gut."

The sly smiles spreading across the assassin's faces were dangerous as they casually discussed what they would do to their captor. Natasha said, "I think I'd charge him, punch him like he punched me, and then, because I want to join you, snap his neck. But I think I'll do it slowly, watching as he struggles just before I severe the connection point between spinal cord and brain."

"Meanwhile, I'll have pinned Venen with my arrows against the wall. Not sure if I want to do it by his body or his clothes," Hawkeye mused thoughtfully. "While I wait for you, I'll get some toys ready for us to play with. I'm thinking getting some of the poisons and testing them out on the doctor. A bit of role playing of our own – you know, some mad scientist games. And when you arrive, I'll let you take over."

"All too gladly. I think I'll have fun with a knife. Just little cuts at first. But, as I'm impatient, I think I'll just stab him through the heart and peacefully end his miserable existence."

"Only because we want to get out of here of course. That's too easy a way out for him."

"Definitely. I'll just do it because of time restraints," shrugged Natasha.

They shared a short, sharp chuckle at the dark thoughts. If it wasn't their mission already, disposing of Venen would have posed slightly different moral questions they would have been reluctant to answer. But it was clear this was for the greater good. Venen had no family or friends. The only ones who would be truly hurt by his demise would be himself and his investors.

"Well, as long as we've got that sorted," Clint murmured. "We can rest for a bit. Nothing else we can do anyway."

Nodding her assent, Natasha followed her partner into a light, uneasy sleep.

* * *

Annoyed that the agents hadn't given in yet, Venen gnashed his teeth. He was sure it was going to happen before, and for it not to eventuate made his sight cloud with anger. He wanted a definitive result damnit!

Seeing the agents smile at each other and fall asleep, Venen made a decision.

Bringing a mobile phone up to his ear, he waited for the man on the other end to pick up. When he did, he ordered, "Double the dose in the systems. I want proof this thing will work as part of a fertility plan. We'll be richer than imagined if we do."

A grunt was all he got in reply. It was all he needed.

* * *

It Clint thought going to sleep with arousal still controlling his body had been hard, waking up had been worse.

He had the sense of mind to realise that another pheromone dose must have been added to the air before white hot need left him blind to anything other than release. In a sharp move, he grabbed Natasha and pinned her under him, rudely awaking her from her nap. She lashed out, only to have her arms held captive by strong hands. Her world came into focus to see Clint, breathing hard above her as he battled for control over his base urges.

"Tasha," Clint half growled, half pleaded. "I can't…I need _something_. He's given us another dose." He took a deep breath, his whole frame rigid above the beautiful woman below him. "God…I don't know what-"

"Shh," hushed Natasha, seeing the strain of resisting her. "Remember to relax Clint. Relax."

"I have to touch you," he breathed.

Without missing a beat, Natasha nodded, shifting so her body language was more open, sending the signals to his brain that her permission was given. A gasp escaped her as a hot mouth attacked her neck, while hands dragged roughly down her sides, then back up to her chest and palming the swell of her breasts. Pleasure assaulted her every sense and awakened her own desires. She knew she was acting under her own new dose as well, but she had a feeling her earlier orgasm had dampened the effects.

"Can't help it. I need you. This thing is driving me crazy, and I feel hard enough to hammer nails. I can't think of anything but cumming. God Tasha, it's like I have no control. All there is, is heat, need, how good you smell, and a claim," the archer babbled, grinding his hips hard against her, jerking back and forth.

At the same time, he hated it. The loss of autonomy. Gritting his teeth, he kept his twitching fingers from ripping off the shirt Natasha wore to get closer to her breasts.

Seeing the desperation in his eyes, Natasha realised that they really had no choice. If they resisted, Venen would just keep upping the pheromones until they gave in.

"Fuck it," she growled, and reached down, fumbling with the button fly covering the straining erection beneath. Once undone, she felt below the waistband of his boxers for the hot, hard maleness she had felt pressing against her before. Once her fingers touched him, Clint moaned, long and low in her ear as her cool fingers rubbed against his heated flesh. Natasha guided the length out of its confinements, knowing she had to get her partner off _now_ before he got any more wild. If making him come was going to do it, she was going to do whatever she could.

"Nnn…please," Clint begged, his eyes shut at the sensations, surrendering to the lust. His hips bucked into the loose grip Natasha had on him.

"_Calm down_ or else this won't feel good," admonished the red head, twisting out from underneath him for a moment to reach over to the bedside table and snag the bottle of KY that had been left on the surface. Squirting a generous amount onto her palm, she quickly returned to the thick shaft and enclosed her hand around the base. The answering hiss of pleasure made her smirk, before she turned her mind to the task at hand. Darting a look down between the space between their bodies, Natasha let the smirk return. "My my Agent Barton, look what we've been hiding. By guess I'd say about nine inches?"

"About that," he replied breathily. He couldn't think of anything other than the hot, slick hand around him.

The time for talking was over. Tightening her hand slightly around the thick, hot cock, Natasha made small strokes, not going far up or down at all, teasing him.

"Tasha," Clint growled, his thick digits flicking over her nipples through the fabric of her shirt. "Get on with it."

With her other hand, Natasha dragged his head up so they were kissing, her hand increasing its speed and stroke length as the intensity of their liplock heightened. Clint continued to fondle her breasts as his hips jerked into the firm grip his partner had around him. Her hand felt so perfect, gliding up and down with the perfect pressure. A lot of women were too gentle, almost like they were afraid of breaking his penis if they tightened their grip on him. Not Tasha. It wasn't painful, it was smooth and so good. Oh how that hand slid from his base to tip, adding pressure along the way, and then thumbing over the head, stimulating that sensitive spot on the underside. Pure ecstasy. It reminded him just how long he had been without any kind of sex.

"C'mon Clint, it's your turn," murmured Natasha, breaking their kiss to swirl her tongue over the pulse point jumping at his neck. She could taste the salt, could taste him, and she stroked his length faster.

"Oh God," grunted Clint, arching his back as he felt his balls tighten, the familiar rush of heat intensifying.

"Let go," she breathed, low and needy in his ear.

"Ggnn! Fuck!" he groaned out, feeling the release overtaking his whole body. His cock shuddered as hot cum erupted from the tip, mixing with the lube on Natasha's hand. She looked a little surprised at the amount of the fluid but she let him come down from the high, using her free hand to keep him close so their bodies were in contact. It was Clint's turn to bury his face at the junction of her base and shoulders, breathing heavily from the force of his climax.

After a few minutes of quiet, the red head tentatively asked, "Feel better?"

A low, almost bitter chuckle reached her ears. "I'm still hard as a rock, but yeah, I don't feel as if I'm going to lose it completely."

Natasha let him roll off her, and she held in a chuckle of amusement at how dishevelled he looked. His cock was still erect, but at half-mast, his jeans were hanging dangerously low on his hips, hair mussed, and lips kiss swollen. She knew she didn't look any better.

"Wow," Clint murmured, rubbing a hand over his face. He felt spent, and yet, at the same time he felt he could go another ten rounds.

He looked over at Natasha, saw her hair wild, her lips looking redder than before from the force of their kisses, her nipples plainly showing through her bra and top, and when he drew in a deep breath of air, he could taste her arousal in the air.

Yep, they were both goners.

More silence passed, both unsure where to go from here. Talk it over, or let their hormones and urges do the talking?

"You know what," Natasha suddenly said, reaching for the hem of her shirt and whipping it over her head and tossed it over her shoulder, "I'm sick of waiting, sick of anticipation. We're going to do this, get it over and done with, and then hopefully they'll let their guard down around us enough to escape. You with me Clint?"

Momentarily distracted by the sight of creamy skin revealed by the shirt, the archer shook his head slightly. After his release, more of his sense had come back, and concern shone through once more. "Natasha, are you sure?"

"Yes!" she replied in exasperation.

"Once this is over…you know that there is no time for regrets? We go hard or forget it, baby," Clint said gravely.

"Don't call me baby."

"I knew the anger would focus you."

"Whatever. I want this. I want you. We have chemistry, we're both hornier than dogs in heat, and right now I think we should fuck. Get it over and done with so we actually have some mental power to get the fuck out of here!" Natasha hissed, anger and lust warring in equal parts.

A small, boyish smirk crept on Clint's face. "You know you're hot when you're angry."

"So that's a yes?"

"Hell yeah."

* * *

"_What the hell do you mean 'red tape?'!"_

Tony Stark was not a very happy camper at all. He and the SHIELD team had arrived in Argentina, three miles out from the co-ordinates flashing on his HUD. Fury has radioed in and said he was negotiating with some of the Argentinean authorities.

"If you don't let me do my job, I'll make sure you'll be the guard dog for the quinjet. Now shut it. If I can get non-interference, this'll go smoother than we hoped for," Fury barked back, unhappy with the delay in progress as much as Ironman was. Every second he had to be diplomatic was every second of action finding his two agents wasted.

"Whatever. But if something happened to them that could've been prevented while we were shitting around, that's on you."

Ironman let his technology scan once more. They were been three miles from the location, but specialised vision sensors in his helmet helped to scan underground, and he could tell that the underground facility they were looking for was no more than two miles away. If they could crash through the ceiling without being detected, they would. So far, reports were that the only way to reach the labs was through a warehouse which was heavily guarded.

Tony didn't care. He was looking forward to the challenge.

* * *

**A/N: *throws bone to reviewers* Review my lovelies! Natasha was being pushy. **

**I just checked my stats. Over 170 people are following this (cue my jaw dropping), and for one blissful moment I imagined: if each person reviewed, I'd get over 100 reviews per chapter. *faints from the thought***


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I am really loving the tidal wave of reviews! Makes my heart sing really. I was SO surprised to see I got 50 reviews for last chapter alone. I really enjoyed reading what everyone thought. As to what I have decided? Ah, but that would be giving away the story ;)**

**On another personal note, I think Jeremy Renner is my new favourite actor. He's so boyishly handsome and just…mmm, those arms. **

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast. Some OCs.

**Warnings: **There will be smut, with elements of dubious consent, but overall, there is no rape. There will also be angst and hurt/comfort. Oh, and let's not forget an eventual HEA. **REAL BIG WARNING FOR SMUT HERE.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 6**

* * *

There was no time to psychoanalyse what they were doing. If they stopped and thought, all their hidden demons would take hold and prevent their mutual enjoyment. Unable to help themselves, Clint and Natasha grappled with each other for dominance, their mouths meeting in a fury of passion to distract themselves from a cold, hard reality.

All the lines they had drawn for themselves were about to be shredded and left behind.

They needed the passion to try not to focus on the fact that they were about to fuck their best friend and partner.

Clint got the upper hand as their tongues duelled, and reached around to unclip the offending bra in his way. Ripping it off her shoulders, his eyes darkened when the full breasts were exposed to his hungry eyes and roving hands. The sensation of the soft flesh in his palms tempted his sense to come to the forefront of his mind. This was Natasha. The woman who he had been attracted to for a long time, but never got close to so their friendship and partnership wouldn't be damaged. He knew he could love her if he got too close.

And this was being classified as too close.

He couldn't find it in him to care.

Raging need wouldn't let up, driving them above and beyond their normal controlled states of arousal. When Natasha felt the rough skin of Clint's hands against her bare nipples, she arched up with a gasp. The contrast of the weathered fingers over one of the softer parts of her body was electric. When the pads of his fingertips stroked over the sensitive buds, they stiffened to hard peaks and her hands squeezed hard onto his hard muscled biceps in reflex.

And she damn near screamed when his mouth followed his fingers.

"God Clint, you're not playing fair!" Natasha cried out, writhing against the hot mouth encasing her left areola.

"I'm an archer and an agent of SHIELD. I take every advantage I can," Clint replied, coming up for air to grin disarmingly at his partner before swiping his tongue roughly over the other breast.

"Nnnn…get this…damn shirt…off!" the red head growled out, gripping the bottom of his shirt and yanking it up, forcing the archer to disengage from her chest and help her rid him of his clothes. She watched as his arm muscles flexed, and another sizzling bolt of arousal hit her. He was so handsome, and for this moment, he was all hers.

Hers. Why on Earth did she like the sound of that?

Shoving the thought out of her mind, Natasha returned the favour and ran her thumbs over his pectorals, teasing him like he had teased her.

"Yes…that's it," Clint hummed in approval, while one hand supported him above her, the other stroking down her side, towards the zip of her own jeans. The scent of arousal was stronger, headier now, and he felt the need to claim more desperately than before. He let her play her hands along his chest and abs, revelling in the fact she was doing it of her own volition. It was a moment of beauty – the open curiosity on her face, the lust in her eyes, flickering like the brightest stars at night, and the roll of her hips, urging his questing digits to continue.

He divested Natasha of her jeans, keeping his eyes trained on her, looking for _any_ sign of an adverse reaction. For all that she had been the one to initiate this, Clint had vowed to take care of her. Any indication she no longer wanted this, wanted him, he would stop and take care of his little problem by himself.

Natasha spread her legs, which were tingling from the air hitting the bare skin. When Clint's hips fit between them, pressing their pelvic regions together, she stilled. His erection was rubbing up against the thin cotton of her panties – which were damp and thoroughly ruined – and his eyes burned into hers. She couldn't look away, captured and awed by the intensity.

Clint moved away for a few seconds to get rid of his own jeans and boxers, tossing them on the floor next to Natasha's shirt and bra. They were now both naked, save for the last barrier of Natasha's underwear.

"You know," Clint remarked casually to ease the sincerity of the moment, "I've always wondered if you were completely a natural red head."

"Perv," snapped Natasha, unable to help the blush that went from her cheeks from her chest under her partner's thorough scrutiny of her body. She hated that blush. She was a highly trained assassin capable of hiding a blush.

Maybe her body didn't want to hide itself from Clint.

"I like the term 'curious Hawk' better," murmured the archer. When he saw her blush, compassion mixed with awe filled him. "Your redhead complexion is showing through Nat."

"Shut up," she hissed in embarrassment, one hand coming up to cover her blazing cheeks.

A calloused hand replaced her hand on her cheeks, caressing for a moment before drawing her hand. "No reason to be embarrassed. No need to hide from _me_. You're beautiful, passionate, fierce, and…" _the sexiest woman I've ever seen._ But he left that last part in his mind. He didn't want to ruin this moment by bringing too much thought back into this. "You shouldn't be ashamed of your body's reaction. It's natural."

Natasha nodded, and reached up to touch his lips in a sign of trust.

"I need you now," she murmured in a low, husky voice, undulating appealingly across the sheets of the bed.

To Clint, the image of an avenging angel sprung to mind. Her hair was a crimson halo, her body the most delicate shade of porcelain, hiding the muscles and hardness developed from years of being a spy and assassin. She was in near perfect proportion, with firm, round breasts that were just right for her frame. Not small, not large, but a nice size in between. The last part of her was yet to be revealed, but he could say the limber legs leading up to the apex were so well defined he had to play some homage to them first.

Grabbing the lube, he rubbed a little across his palms and whispered, "A bit more patience. I promise."

Before she could demandingly protest, he grasped one ankle in one hand, and with the other, slowly massaged up her calf and thigh, and then back down again, purposely avoiding that tempting area in between her legs. She moaned in response, unable to articulate from sensation. He then repeated on her other leg.

'_Why does he have to be so…so…endearing and wonderful and…"_ Natasha thought desperately, welcoming the anticipation now, welcoming the tingles racing from her toes to her heart and back again. His touch was tender for a man so used to using force. It was like each rub of her tense muscles was engineered to leave her a boneless mess. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears as she looked up into his eyes again. If possible, they were darker, almost the grey of a stormy day as he leaned up from where he was kneeling at her feet, and…

Oh _shit._

His teeth flashed white as they snagged the top elastic band of her panties and slowly tugged, dragging them away from her soaked core.

It she wasn't wet before, she was now. The progress of taking her panties off with his teeth was slow, but Clint had shown his role as a sniper and archer was well suited with the patience he displayed in sliding them off her legs with no help from his hands. She gasped as they came free, and they joined the rest of their clothing on a heap on the floor. He cocked an eyebrow and she knew he was saying smugly in his head, '_So you are a natural redhead after all.'_ She simply reached for him.

There were no words.

No more banter. No more demands. Just feeling as their gazes remained locked on each other, not thinking anything, but feeling how this was what they needed. Their desires roared at them, urging them on. They moved to hold each other close, Natasha's arms going to his neck and Clint's supporting her upper back as their lower halves began to align. Skin against skin. The touch of their warm bodies together made every nerve stand on end, the sensation reminding them they were only too alive and human. There was a vulnerability as Clint bent his head to nuzzle against her neck, waiting for the last invitation. When the redhead turned her head and slowly nodded, he breathed in her essence and slowly pressed the tip of his length against her slit.

Natasha tensed, and then relaxed when lips drifted up and down her neck, grazing light kisses along it. She trusted Clint with her life. Now, she was trusting him with the rest of her too.

When he pushed a little more, the head began to glide in, causing them both to gasp when heat met heat. In response, she wrapped her legs around him, exerting enough pressure on his lower back to coax him into her. Clint slid in slow, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out at the sheer tightness of the walls of his partner's core, the heat of it sucking him in, and that pull in his chest that was telling him to sink into her and to never let her go. When he was finally fully sheathed within Natasha, he let out a long, shuddering breath. So good. It felt so fucking good, and right, to do this. It didn't feel awkward or wrong. When Natasha tightened her channel around his shaft, he found it so hard not to pull out and slam within her, so hard not to curse from the breathtaking pleasure. But, as patience was his talent, he took his face from the softness of her neck and saw her eyes.

It was like all the doors were opened to him.

Boundaries between them no longer existed.

It was unfathomable that one simple act of melding their bodies together, seemed to join their very broken, battered souls together too.

And in that moment, something inexplicably changed, woven tightly into their beings. There was no way to reverse it, but both of them knew something was changed.

The pause hung in the balance, and then Clint moved.

It was gradual, grinding against her hips, then pulling back a little more with each slow plunge back into Natasha. Her head fell back, luscious lips open in a moan of slightly-guilty pleasure as the thick cock stimulated every inch of her physically, while the look in Clint's eyes stimulated every single part of her emotionally. She felt like he was looking at her soul. Past all the red in her proverbial ledger, past all the hurt and pain she had ever known. He was looking at her. _Natasha. _Not the Black Widow, not as Natasha the USSR agent-in-training. He was looking at her broken up into the simple units of who she was.

Strangely, she was at peace with that.

Because she could see him too.

He was stunning as he rolled his hips in and out of her, his breathing mingling with hers, but what got to her was not his muscled body delivering with precision more genuine pleasure she had ever known, but the complete dismantling of his barriers. She didn't see Hawkeye, the Master Archer and assassin, talented sniper and one of SHIELD's best agents. She didn't see Clint, the manipulated teenager. She saw Clint, the idealistic man, a giver of chances, and one who understood her own pain and sacrifices.

_She saw him_, exposed as she was.

In that moment, she felt like a child, and an emotion she feared labelling entered her heart.

Raking her fingernails down his spine, she bucked up into his thrusts, wordlessly telling him to give her more, pick up the pace and send them spinning into the mother of all doomsday orgasms.

With a low cry, Clint pressed his mouth to hers, tasting her, delivering harder, longer thrusts with each stroke. His senses were filled of nothing but the woman giving her all beneath him.

There was no point denying the new feeling that was growing past all his bitterness and practicality. He had always cared for Natasha, looked out for her, protected her. It was only understandable that love followed. However, he wouldn't ruin this by boyish flights of fantasy and proclaim it just as he came like a trashy romance novel. No, this he would keep close until the time was right. He caressed the side of her face with one hand, driving steadily into her to draw this out this perfection just a bit longer as their mouths clashed once more. Passion was not just an emotion in this, it was a language they were transmitting.

A soft series of cries, followed by a whimper escaped Natasha's mouth as he released hers, her hips meeting stroke for stroke and flesh slapping lightly together. Her core tightened, her clit stimulated with each thrust and grind of Clint's dick and hips. The slight pressure of his weight pinning her to the bed only made it more delicious.

When those fingers raked down his back once again, Clint knew she was close. The hand that caressed her cheek sneakily travelled south to rest on the outside of her hip, before inching in and brushing over that wonderful little bundle of nerves.

The woman mewled, arching up into him, uncontrollable in her need. Every action now was a plea for more.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from Natasha's face even if he wanted to. She was beautiful in pleasure. He felt his own release approaching soon, and rubbed his thumb rapidly over the clit as he thrust deep and hard into velvet heat. To see her eyes close in complete ecstasy, to feel her curl towards him as her inner walls squeezed and clenched in rapid, random patterns made Clint feel honoured to see it as climax hit her.

For Natasha, her release was as sudden and as powerful as a tidal wave. It made her blind to everything but sensation. It sent her spinning, causing a rare scream to burst from her vocal chords. She bore down on the thick length inside her, tugging on his shoulders, wanting to see and feel his pleasure too.

Thrusting in deep and holding, Clint followed not long after, growling and groaning as hot fluid left his body, emptying into the willing and warm vaginal walls that still gripped him, as if begging him not to leave. It left him feeling satisfied, and oddly, complete.

Breathing heavy, the pair stayed immersed in each other like that for what felt like hours, but was only ten minutes.

When Natasha, feeling their body heat to be too much at last, kissed Clint's shoulder, he gently pulled out – peppering chaste kisses on her cheeks and lips, tasting the salt from the sweat of their exertion – and rolled to the side. He pulled his attractive partner with him, unable to keep from touching her now. Especially not after that amazing bout of sex.

Well, the word sex didn't quite cover it, but 'making love' was too much. Perhaps connection would be more apt. They connected.

"Well fuck," Natasha breathed, still reeling from the force of her orgasm. Her lower half was feeling tingly, and she was actually feeling a little relaxed. It had been, honestly, the most intense and best she'd ever had.

"Yeah. Wow," replied Clint, staring at the ceiling.

Curling into his strong, lean body a little more, Natasha joked, "So, that's what we've been missing out on all these years?"

Clint didn't want to mention that it'd probably feel cheap if they'd been fucking each other like rabbits since they met, so he smirks at her and responds, "Looks like it, yeah. I think we're one hell of a chemical equation."

Not wanting a sense of uncomfortableness to sink in, Natasha let her eyes fall closed. "I'm a little…overwhelmed. Mind if I…?"

"Nah, go ahead. I'm still a little wired. Rest, Tasha," replied Clint, rubbing a hand over her shoulder.

A little smile crossed her face before the redhead fell into an easy sleep.

The archer stayed alert and awake. He decided to enjoy the afterglow and not think about the revelations he had discovered today.

He would address it another time. Right now, he just wanted to relish in the feel of Natasha in his arms.

* * *

**A/N: I thought I'd leave the chapter at that, or else I think the rescue scene would ruin such a sex scene. **

**So how did I do? Review and let me know if you liked it. **

**A HUGE thank you to my reviewers/favouriters/alerts. You keep me going, and I'm so humbled by all of your responses each time. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS GUYS! Keep 'em coming :D Here we are at the rescue scene. I just wanted to mention that the fic will not be ending in another few chapters. I'm planning on making it at least another…maybe eight? Depending on the way my muse leads me. It may be more. Also, on another note, a reviewer pointed out that Clint calls Natasha 'Nat.' He does, but I think he'd call her 'Tasha' too, so I'll make sure he switches between them.**

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **There will be smut, with elements of dubious consent, but overall, there is no rape. There will also be angst and hurt/comfort. Oh, and let's not forget an eventual HEA. **Some violence in this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 7**

* * *

Shutting his phone with a decisive snap, Nick Fury took one moment to blow out a frustrated sigh. It would be the last luxury he would have today.

He rounded on his men and ordered, "Give Ironman the go ahead. Follow him, but don't be stupid. Get down into the labs, and make sure each enemy is debilitated. We have no time for information; this is primarily a rescue mission. Move, _now!_"

"No need for the little princesses to tell me, I'm en route to the entrance," Ironman called out over the comms, jetting to the warehouse that hid the entrance to the underground lab. He heard Fury curse, but he decided he really didn't care.

Three hours.

Three fucking hours it had taken 'Mr. Diplomatic' to make sure that Argentinean authorities were going to look the other way for the next day. Three hours in which two of his favourite assassins could have been killed. Although, truthfully, they were the only favourite assassins he had…Regardless, he had checked on the microchip data constantly every five minutes, so much that it had given him a tic under his right eye. When Fury gave the go ahead, he leapt into the air, propulsion systems at their best, and flew to the lab site.

He burst into the warehouse, SHIELD agents following behind him. There was no guard at the entrance – foolish, but it could be an indicator of a trap – so he flung open the door, hand blasters at the ready, and led the group of men down the winding staircase.

Really, for all his smarts, Venen was pretty idiotic. Only one way in or out (unless one counted blasting the ceiling open), and it was a closed staircase that led to the upper level. It was tactically good for barring someone from below, but seeing as there was no resistance so far, Tony thought he and the SHIELD agents should use it to their advantage. The staircase finally levelled out, opening up to a wide corridor with labs leading off on either side.

"Okay," Ironman said, turning to the agents behind him. "Go through the labs and destroy anything in it, and take care of any guys floating around. Set off explosions, let them know we're here. They'll head this way unless there's another exit we don't know about, so we can trap them. I'm going to look for Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton." He left before getting an affirmative, set on his destination. "JARVIS, pull up the blueprints. Where would they have taken their weapons?"

In his HUD, his faithful AI gave him the location and he headed there.

There were two guards in front of the room, looking foreboding.

Piece of cake.

Tony didn't like to kill if he didn't have to, so he shot two tranq darts towards the two men, smirking in satisfaction at the thuds as they dropped. That would take care of them for about an hour, more than enough time to get the two agents out. Stepping over their downed forms, he blasted the door to the weaponry. There, like trophies, in the middle of the room on a metal table, were Hawkeye and Black Widow's weapons. Ironman whispered a quiet 'whoa.' He hadn't realised just how armed the two agents kept themselves.

Black Widow's famous set of 'Widow's bite,' along with three daggers, one of them elaborately decorated with phoenixes, two guns, five extra clips of ammo for those guns, a set of mini-detonation charges, a pair of brass knuckles, five tranquilizer darts modified for Black Widow's guns, and last, but not least, a barbed strip of leather for use in close contact fighting. Hawkeye's bow was next to his full quiver, but Ironman was surprised to find a gun next to it along with twelve capsules which were designed to open on impact. Five held poison gas, while the other seven held tear gas.

"Nice stash guys. So how did they capture you?" mused Tony in his helmet. Deciding that they must have been surprised and overpowered, he grabbed all of their weapons just as the first explosion rocked the walls of the underground building.

* * *

Clint had only allowed himself to doze for a few minutes at a time, still holding a very naked Natasha in his arms in their post-coitus cuddle.

He was surprised. For such a tough cookie, she liked to cuddle.

The redhead was in a seemingly deep sleep, but that didn't really surprise the archer. When she was stressed, Natasha liked to sleep it off. For example, after the shawarma meal after the battle of Manhattan, she had collapsed on the nearest soft surface in Tony's penthouse (which happened to be his couch) and slept for almost 20 hours, with only the briefest break at the ten hour mark to eat and relieve the call of nature.

His own fingers were itching, but not for the familiar string of his bow, but for the strings of his guitar. Natasha slept. He played guitar. He thought it a good way to wind down from stressful situations.

He was just musing on the Santana version of the song 'While my guitar gently weeps' when the sound and vibrations of an explosion passed through their cell.

Sitting bolt upright, he quickly grabbed a blanket and covered his partner, catapulting across the bed and going to the dresser to pull out his Hawkeye suit. He grabbed Natasha's slinky cat suit and chucked it on the bed, where the beautiful woman sprawled there grumbled as she began to wake up.

"What?" Natasha mumbled groggily. She had been enjoying being warm and secure in Clint's strong arms. When she saw him standing naked next to the dresser with his uniform, she was hit first by a tidal wave of arousal at his sexy profile. Her gaze darted down to the now limp cock, a light blush tainting her pale skin as she remembered how he had felt encased within her. But her training overcame her desires, and she noticed the cat suit next to her on the bed. Relief was the next emotion when her mind put the pieces together.

"Sounds like the cavalry's here," quipped Clint, a corner of his mouth pulling up in a smirk.

"Looks like SHIELD's going flashy today," responded the redhead and snagged her bra and panties, grimacing at the feel of them, before shimmying into her suit. A sense of calm came over her at the familiar sensation of her high-tech suit sliding over her skin. The Black Widow was back in business, back in control once more.

The two pulled on their boots, making sure they looked presentable. Natasha was glad Clint hadn't made a hickey on her neck. It would have been harder to explain a hickey than the slightly swollen state of her lips or her messy hair. Clint looked fine, the only indication that he had sex being the slight stiffness in his lower back. When he turned to look at her, she found that there was one other indicator that still remained from their passionate session of relieving the pheromone pressures.

His eyes were still a little stormy. They were intense and drew her in.

They made her insides quiver.

"Nat…uh, maybe while we still have some time, maybe we should discuss…" Clint began awkwardly, tapping his fingers on his thigh. Natasha recognised it as a sign of discomfort, and the quivering inside her turned to dread. She _really _didn't want to discuss what happened. At least, not right now.

"Later. I don't want to be distracted from our goal. We have the opportunity to get out of here, and we're taking it," Natasha said in a final tone, although she couldn't look her partner in the eyes. It was awkward.

There was a hint of bitterness around Clint's neutral expression, but he nodded, understanding that Natasha needed time. He would give it to her, but not for too long.

There were thuds down the hallway, sounding like the guards that had been chauffeuring them to the bathrooms and delivering them food. Both stood and tensed, ready to attack, bodies on an angle to each other to protect each other's back. They listened for any threat, knowing they only had their self-defence knowledge and teamwork if their guards came in. Their emotions were locked down and compartmentalised so their focus wouldn't waver.

When the door slammed open, two guards ran through, cocky enough not to have their guns in their hands already. Clint was the first to strike, meeting the first man head on with a blow to the neck, while Natasha executed a perfect roundhouse kick to the other's sternum, making him cry out in pain as he was sent flying. The two agents took a moment to smirk at each other, before Natasha looked out around the doorjamb, just in case it was a trap. The corridor was oddly empty, but the noises were now clearer than before. There was shouting, curses, and all around mayhem it seemed. Natasha pressed herself against the wall and crept down the passage way, mentioning with her hand for Clint to follow.

There was a cry of a man in pain close by, before a body flew out onto the floor at the end of the corridor, obviously knocked out. The agents were about to retreat when a distinct, but faint, mechanical whirring followed.

"Stark?" breathed Hawkeye, looking at Black Widow in question.

She knew why he asked. She was around Ironman for longer. She inclined her head.

She was proven right when the gold and red frame of Ironman came into view, shaking his head down at the fallen guard. He turned his head to look down the hallway, and if anything, he looked surprised.

"Well, looks like I'm not going to be a big hero after all," he quipped, striding down the hallway to the agents. He flipped up the facemask long enough to give both Hawkeye and Black Widow a quick smile. "I'm taking props for it though. I was the one to locate you, and I'm pretty sure my presence here has Venen on the run. But it's good to see you guys. You look fine for being captured."

"You don't want to know," muttered Clint.

Tony flipped the mask back down, but then he seemed to brighten and he held out the items he held in his left hand. "Delivery for a Miss. Widow and a Mr. Hawkeye, express post," he joked.

Natasha felt like crying with joy at seeing her weapons. She practically dived for them, ripping her Widow's Bite out of Tony's hand, sliding the bracelet-glove contraptions on with predatory relish, before taking her daggers and gun belt, strapping them all on in their usual places. A savage expression crossed her face as she fingered the hilt of her phoenix dagger. Venen was going to have a taste of it soon.

Clint smirked with amusement. Natasha had always been attached to her weapons. He waited patiently while she got herself stable and sorted, before taking his own guns and little pouch of tricks, and then finally, reverently, taking his bow and quiver from their Avenger's teammate.

"Thanks man," he said quietly, placing his specialised glove over his string hand and then lightly touching the string, feeling for its tension. He never realised how much he missed his favoured weapon until he had been parted from it for more than a few days.

"Eh, no problem. Someone had to get them for your sorry asses," Tony replied, turning. He threw back over his shoulder, "Hey listen, we can't find Venen, but the blueprints of this building say there's a room we haven't checked out yet. Go back down the corridor, open the door to your left, go up two flights of stairs, take a right, and then that door should be where the little rat is hiding. But we only have, at most, ten minutes before we have to get out of here. SHIELD is rigging this place to blow."

Hawkeye's eyes sharpened, and he was immediately thinking of shooting his arrows to pin Dr. Venen to the wall. "Stats?"

"The room is about 20 by 40, the door will be in the left corner of the short end," replied Ironman without missing a beat. He gave the agents a cocky salute and hovered on his feet thrusters, moving off to create more havoc in parts unknown.

"You go and mete out some payback for that bruise on your stomach. I'll go give the good doctor our _kindest_ regards and wait for you," Hawkeye ordered, and paused just a second to see Black Widow's nod before turning and heading for the direction Ironman gave them. He notched an arrow in the string of his bow, carefully watching out for any surprise guards, although instinct told him they would all be dealing with the SHIELD force. Up the stairwell without any trouble, it was when he took the right to face the door that the hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end. This was it. Barely breathing, keeping every muscle possible still, he listened for any sound of a living being in the room.

There! A soft shuffle and the low drone of someone muttering feverishly to themselves.

Without any hesitation, Clint moved forward and kicked in the door, deadly intent set in his face. He noticed with complete satisfaction as Venen spun around, his face a perfect expression of shock and surprise, clutching a sheaf of papers. When the angle was right, he let the arrow fly loose, watching with cold approval as it caught the outstretched hand and pinned it to the wall behind Venen. The elder man let out a cry of pain, but didn't attempt to tug his hand free from the arrow, knowing he'd only cause more harm to himself. As it was, blood was trickling steadily from his pinned hand and down his outstretched arm. The look of fear was all too apparent on Venen's face, making Hawkeye sneer. For a man who created biological warfare weaponry, he was a chicken-shit behind all the blustering. It made the prospect of killing him feel so…_pathetic_. After all, it was only due to Venen's guards, not the man himself, that he had been captured anyway.

Breathing shaky and rapid, Venen asked, "Why haven't you killed me yet? Don't draw it out, please. I lied. I didn't watch you and your fellow agent copulate."

Clint blinked, declining to reply verbally, but drew another arrow and let it fly through the opposite forearm, pinning the left arm to the wall. A squawk filled the air as blood soaked the fabric of Dr. Venen's shirtsleeve.

"Tell me! Why aren't you?" he screamed, true terror entering his voice.

"Because," Clint said softly, "I have chosen to leave it for someone who thirsts for it more than I do." And then he carefully aimed and shot one more arrow into his tormentor's kneecap, the special reinforcement of his arrows shattering it on impact.

The anguished scream that emitted from Venen's mouth was all too sweet a revenge. As he retrieved that arrow and cleaned it, he waited for the Black Widow to come.

* * *

Natasha had seen Clint leave so she whirled and ran for where the rest of the action was. She didn't care about anyone else, but she was determined to take two lives today, and two lives only. The asshole guard and Venen.

Even amidst all the chaos, within seconds of entering the main fray in a large open hallway she had found her guard.

And as she spotted her prey, her prey saw her. And like a startled fawn, his eyes widened and he called out something, attempting to run. In the interest of the chase, she let him. As he scampered down a more secluded hallway, Natasha almost smirked. The idiot. That was the whole plan. She had more chance of tagging him if he was by himself, separating himself from the pack where he could have been protected.

"I told you that you would see me coming. Why doubt my words?" she called out in a soft, deadly voice that was colder than ice.

"Get the fuck away bitch!" he called out, hiding himself in a little niche down the hall.

Black Widow was tempted to roll her eyes. Seriously, that was all he could come up with?

Coolly, she took out her gun, casually checking the clip before raising it up. The fool was so stocky and large that she had a great view of a shoulder sticking out in the hallway. Cocking her gun, she decided to throw out more taunt, "Did you honestly think I wouldn't go through with my threat? I'm the Black Widow."

"You could be the fuckin' president for all I care, go the hell away!" he yelled.

This was going to be pitifully easy.

Natasha took the shot, not needing to watch to know that her shot had hit. The guard's yell of pain was more than enough evidence. She walked to where he was clutching his shoulder with one hand, the other fumbling with his gun in attempt to shoot her. Kicking the useless hunk of metal away, she flicked her 'bites' on, crouching above his face. No emotions showed on her face, and her eyes, she knew, looked dead. The fool saw it, and his hatred morphed into panic. "Fuck," he breathed.

"That's right," hummed Natasha, raising her hands and then brutally shoving them into the bastard's face with a snarl. The electricity zapped from her gloves to bare skin, the sizzle of it filling the air. The guard screamed shrilly for a few seconds before death took him in the form of electrocution.

She left the dead guard on the floor and headed back towards the main hallway. She ignored the fighting and continued on to find Venen and Clint. She head an agent call out, "Five minutes before we have to leave, Romanoff!" so she nodded and quickened her pace, jogging past her open cell door and up the way Stark had indicated. When she reached the doorway, she found it flung open, Clint leaning against the doorjamb examining his quiver. "He's all ready for you," her partner said in a distracted tone of voice.

Not bothering with thanking him, she unsheathed her phoenix dagger and stepped in.

Natasha took a moment to admire Clint's handiwork. He had pinned Venen's arms, but it also looked like he had shot arrows into his kneecap, both feet, and shoulder. She knew Clint had specifically aimed them to cause pain, but not enough to kill. Venen looked like he was about to piss himself…oh, looked like he had already done it if the faint yellow stain on his beige pants was any indication. He was whimpering like a snivelling lost brat, and when he saw her, he cried out, weakly struggling against the arrows pinning him.

"Doctor. You know that saying, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?'" Natasha asked innocently.

Clint watched in interest. The Black Widow was an avenging goddess, all too evident in times like this when she screwed with her enemies heads. When he had seen her arrive, it had taken all his will power not to throw her on the nearest flat surface and kiss her senseless – she was that beautiful in anger. Beautiful in a tender moment, beautiful in violence. Such was the dichotomy of Natasha.

Venen nodded slowly.

"They created it because of me," she hissed, lunging forward with her dagger and driving it deep into his paunchy belly, twisting it, listening to the hoarse screams as fresh blood blossomed around her most treasured blade. "If I had more time," she said, withdrawing her weapon, "I would strip you and show you how I learned to castrate a man. I learned it in Russia when one of the handlers decided to fuck the Director's daughters. It was my first time, but I've never forgotten how to do it."

The doctor sobbed, babble pouring from his lips, pleading for mercy.

Black Widow was cold towards the pleas of mercy. He had not shown any to her and Hawkeye. She was only returning the favour.

She stabbed him twice more in rapid succession, aiming for his vital organs. When his screaming became annoying, she finally decided to finish him off, slashing through his ribs to pierce his heart.

The screaming stopped.

She didn't realise she was breathing heavily, red clouding her vision, until Clint came over, retrieving the two arrows from the body and then carefully grasping her shoulders and steering her away from the carnage she had wreaked on it. He paused to grab some wipes from a bench top, giving them to Natasha, indicating for her to clean up some. It was only then she saw the amount of blood on her hands. The expected little swell of remorse welled up before she tramped it down. It was a weakness. The world was better off, although her ledger simply got some more crimson added to it.

"Nice messing with his head," her partner said softly, finishing his own clean up.

"You should have seen what I said to the guard," Natasha deadpanned.

"One of your Black Widow specials I'm sure," replied Clint, grabbing another wipe and reached up to wipe blood soflty from Natasha's face. She was then reminded of the difference between their interactions now. He was being more tender with her. For some reason, that thought made her heart ache.

"Later. I'm looking forward to a nice hot shower wether on the helicarrier or back at the tower," Natasha said, directing his hands away from her.

Clint nodded, and without words, they left the building, following the rest of the SHIELD agents and Ironman.

* * *

**A/N: **This was a REALLY difficult chapter to write because of the action scenes. So please review to help me continue to write! Your reviews really inspire me to keep delivering this story to you. I means a lot.

Also, I'm thinking of adding a comic book character called Mockingbird (Bobbi – the comic book Hawkeye's wife/ex-wife) to the fic for a bit of extra drama factor. What do you reckon? It'll be interesting I think :D


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Wow! I got some vehement 'NO!'s about the inclusion of Mockingbird into the story. After setting out the plot and where I want to go with this fic on a mind map, I've come to the conclusion that Bobbi/Mockingbird will not DIRECTLY be included in the story at this point in time.

**Thank YOU to all reviewers/favouriters/alerters. Keep it coming guys. I enjoy reading your reviews when I wake up in the morning to have breakfast :D**

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **There will be smut, with elements of dubious consent, but overall, there is no rape. There will also be angst and hurt/comfort. Oh, and let's not forget an eventual HEA.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 8**

* * *

The evacuation of the underground facility had been effective and ordered, and once all the agents had been cleared away into the quinjets waiting, the thunderous boom of a large-scale explosion was the only evidence left of what had been Dr. Venen's organisation.

Both agents watched in silence, unable to take their eyes away from the spectacle as the ground collapsed inward where the labs had been, where their cell had been. It was closure on a difficult experience. They had been unceremoniously dragged away from each other, going into two separate quinjets. Natasha was placed with some female agents, while Clint had to ride with Stark and Fury. He was upset that he had been parted from Natasha, but he was careful not to show it, especially in front of Fury. He had to be content with the knowledge that they were safe and on their way back to America. They had just gotten into the air, when Fury leaned forward and informed him, "We're going back to Stark's tower so you and Agent Romanoff can clean up. So we don't waste time, I'll debrief you here."

Clint shrugged. "Go ahead."

"What happened?" Fury asked bluntly. Tony was listening in too, but he pretended not to by checking on the gauntlets of his suit.

Hoping Natasha would say something along the same lines, Clint told them about the capture, about the four days of captivity in the first cell. When he got to the next part, he hesitated for a moment, thinking up the most plausible excuse for why they were found in a different cell, while also providing part of the truth. He didn't want Fury to even guess at what he and Natasha had been forced to do. Even now, he could feel a pull to her.

"We were taken to the other cell for an experiment. We were under heavily armed guard at all times and weaponless. If we didn't comply, we were going to be made to starve," explained the archer quietly. "We were test dummies for some sort of chemical pheromone that would apparently make us more 'beast-like.' Don't know what Venen meant by that, but it was supposed to make us more aggressive and make us have a tendency to go wild at any provocation.

"Did it work?" asked Fury, his eye intent on his agent.

"A little," admitted Clint. "I felt out of control with my emotions, and I just wanted to tear the place down. Natasha was the same, but I think the fact we had to share a cell when we were like that was what really pissed her off. Venen was mumbling something about 'stages' and how the last stage would break us. I think you got to us before that stage."

Fury scanned Clint's body language for any sign of falsehood, before nodding slowly, satisfied. "Fine. Next time, we'll get you better intel."

"You'd better," muttered Hawkeye darkly, stroking the grip of his bow in obvious threat.

The rest of the flight passed in silence.

* * *

When they finally reached the Tower, it was in the middle of the night. Only Fury, Stark, and the two rescued agents disembarked, with one jet left on the roof for Fury later, and the other carrying the rest of the team back to the helicarrier.

When Natasha saw Clint, a swooping sensation happened in her chest, and she resisted the urge to feel around her ribcage to see what was wrong. By now, the effects of the pheromone had been sure to wear off. Still, seeing him after that long flight was relieving. He looked just as tired and stressed as she did, but she knew now was not the time.

They trooped down into what was unofficially termed 'the Avengers communal area,' and Fury directed his two exhausted agents to sit, while glaring at Tony to beat it. He had some official SHIELD business to attend to. Tony rolled his eyes, but went off to put his suit away and to retreat to his penthouse for a good night's sleep.

Satisfied they were alone, the SHIELD director turned to the two of them.

"I'm satisfied with your debriefing. And after a capture, both of you know that it is protocol that an agent gets at least two days grace as penance," he began, standing before the two seated. He paused, knowing they weren't going to like what he had to say.

"However, one of our operations out in Spain isn't going as successfully as we hoped. And so, I need one of you, while the other is going to enjoy two weeks off from SHIELD." Anticipating their protests, Fury held up a hand. "These are direct orders. Hawkeye, you're needed in Spain. With your skill set, you'll be able to help shut the trafficking ring down. Black Widow isn't needed for the on duty rota for the next two weeks. You are allowed to continue with Avenger's duties, but you're locked out of SHIELD for the next fortnight."

"But sir-" began Natasha, but she was ruthlessly cut down by Fury.

"Do you want to make that a one month suspension Agent?" he asked icily.

The redhead shut her mouth with a decisive snap, but glared daggers at the African-American.

"Good. Agent Barton, go have a shower. You have an hour to sort yourself out before we travel to Spain. I know you're tired, so you can sleep on the way there," ordered Fury, before exiting the floor, making sure not to give them any more chance to protest. He didn't want to pull Barton away from his deserved down-time, but he was needed. And he, as Director, couldn't afford to make allowances when assets were needed.

Natasha and Clint stared at their boss's retreating back. Clint's was one of surprise. He thought he'd at least get a day to relax before going into the field again. Natasha's was one of anger. How _dare_ Fury pull her off the job? If Clint was working himself to death, than she would too! They were partner's damnit!

"Natasha," Clint murmured softly, turning to her. He had no words. He just wanted to feel her against him again, but he knew he couldn't.

"Go have your shower Clint…if you want to talk, you can before you leave," Natasha said in a carefully blank tone.

Because all of her wanted to scream at him not to leave her. Not now. Not when so many things were left unresolved. Sucking it up, she looked away from him and mentioned for him to leave. She heard him sigh, and then shift across to whisper to her, "You better count on that talk. I'm not leaving without it."

Clint stood reluctantly, and headed for his apartment on the floor above. His heart was heavy as he left the room, and he desperately wanted to tell Fury to shove this new mission where the sun didn't shine, but he soldiered on. This was the life he lived. He opened the door and stepped in, feeling the tiniest bit of tension leave him when he stood in the space. The half of a floor that Tony had so generously given him was all him. High ceilings, a big balcony, stray arrows scattered through the rooms, and a guitar looking tempting next to the big plasma TV. Whether he had meant to or not, this was quickly becoming 'home' to him. Forcing the thought of a beautiful redhead out of his tired mind, Clint stripped and headed to the bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping in when the water was just right.

The hot stream sluiced down his aching muscles and he leaned towards the tiled wall. God, what a week. First, he gets captured with his partner. Then, he has sex with her after being driven to a lustful madness, having the epiphany halfway buried in her that somewhere along the line admiration for her had developed to something more, and then getting rescued only to be sent out again into some other God forsaken place.

He wished he could be numb.

He just wanted to rest – preferably with Natasha – for a while before doing anything else.

Just when Clint Barton thought he was in control again, something else ripped it away.

Growling, he beat an angry fist against the wall, before scrubbing himself down. If he was going to leave soon, he was going to leave clean.

Finishing off by washing his hair, he stepped out and reached out for a towel, but halted when a faint pain was felt on his back. Curious, Clint turned his back to the mirror and looked behind him, hoping to see what was causing that pain. A smirk broke his tired visage when he recognised the marks that Natasha had left in her passion. The crescents when she had gripped his shoulders, the lines where she had dragged her fingers down to hold him closer to her as they moved together. Deciding not to put any ointment on them, he finished getting ready for his next mission. A fresh Hawkeye suit, checking his arrow supply, he was ready.

There was only so much energy one could run on, and Clint knew he was nearing the end of his rope. Checking the time, he was horrified to see he only have tem more minutes to find Natasha and clear the air between them before he had to go.

Exiting the apartment, he ran down two flights of stairs to Natasha's space, hoping she would be there. He wanted this conversation to be in private.

Clint's rapid knock was answered by Natasha, who had taken the time to have her own shower, and now looked comfortable in a pair of grey sweatpants and a black tank top. To the archer, she looked just as beautiful now as she did when she was in her cat suit or in a skin-tight dress.

"Oh…Clint," Natasha said in surprise. She didn't really expect to see him before he left.

"I told you we'd talk, and I know we don't have a lot of time, but I want to talk," he replied hurriedly, entering Natasha's lair.

Natasha flushed slightly. This meant honesty. This meant confronting things she didn't really feel like confronting. "Okay…go ahead," she mumbled, flopping back on her couch. When Clint took the seat next to her and gently took her hands in his own, she couldn't help but look into his eyes. All at once, she knew he was being sincere.

"I know that we crossed a line. I know that we've destroyed boundaries. We had sex and we enjoyed it," Clint stated. "But what I really need to know from you before I leave is this: do you want those boundaries up again?"

The startled expression on his partner's face made Clint inwardly curse at his stupidity for rushing her, but he needed to know.

"I…uh…" stammered Natasha. This was blunt and sudden. She had to make a decision now, although she was loath to decide anything rashly. Closing her eyes, she let her instincts decide. Taking a deep breath, she answered.

"No. I don't."

In the silence that followed, Natasha kept her eyes closed. The reason was that she was being a coward. She feared what she would find in Clint's expression, feared that the thudding in her heart was being broadcasted to the entire world it was so loud in her ears. She realised she really didn't want rejection or pity. The rustle of fabric and warm breath over her lips were her only warnings before Clint's mouth covered hers, hot and gentle – perfect. It was reassuring. It was safety. It was affirmation. Natasha's arms reached up, winding around her partner's neck and holding him close, savouring everything about him. The smell of his freshly washed skin, the feel of his muscles bunched under his vest, the branding of his mouth against her own. His hands returned her gesture, wrapping around her and pulling her onto his lap as their kiss deepened. Oh yes, there was definitely something more here, something worth pursuing, no matter how compromised they got.

A beeping broke their embrace, and Clint reluctantly pulled away and checked the time, breathing hard and leaning his forehead against Natasha's. When her eyes opened, he stared into them and said one last thing.

"I promise you I'll come back and we'll figure out where to go from here," he murmured.

"Okay. You better. Or I'll go find you and kick your ass for leaving me wondering," Natasha teased with a weak smile.

It made him grin, and he laid one last kiss on her plump lips before disentangling himself from her warm body. Standing, he said, "Listen...if something comes up that's serious, call me. Contact me in any way you can. I want to know."

Knowing he didn't want to say 'pregnant' out loud, Natasha nodded. She didn't want to speak. She knew she would act like some desperate damsel begging her knight not to go if she did.

With one last stroke over her cheek with a fingertip, Clint left, not looking back. He couldn't look back. It would take his focus away. As he headed to the roof where the quinjet was waiting, shedding all that made him Clint Barton, and taking on all that made him Hawkeye.

* * *

Natasha stared at the closed door for a long time after Clint left.

Why was it that she felt lost? She had never felt this way before when her partner left on a solo mission. And if she had, it had never been this strong.

Although she was exhausted, she couldn't make herself go to sleep. All she could think about was how everything between her and Clint was now changed. That last kiss had felt like a promise, like the sealing of a deal she could never back out of. Trudging to her bed, the redhead laid down on it and buried her head in the pillows. She forced herself not to think. Thoughts could be saved for when she was more coherent.

* * *

**A/N: I am so evil aren't I? Separating them :D**

**Please review! I cannot express how grateful I am for each review you all write. **

**On another note, my updates may become slower over the next three weeks or so due to exam time at uni. And as much as I love writing, studying is very important to me. **

**Cheers!**

**-Myr**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank YOU to all reviewers/favouriters/alerters. Thank you for all being so supportive of this fic. Over 220 reviews! And over 303 people alert this! Has me psyched guys. I'm going to have fun keeping Nat and Clint apart. It's going to make reunion just SO much sweeter. **

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **There will be smut, with elements of dubious consent, but overall, there is no rape. There will also be angst and hurt/comfort. Oh, and let's not forget an eventual HEA.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 9**

* * *

"_Clint."_

_The voice was soft, wounded. So unlike her._

"_Clint."_

_He span around, unable to find a way out of the smog he was swallowed up in. Where was his bow? Where was his quiver and arrows? And where was she? That voice that was so familiar. But wrong. It sounded so wrong like this, hurt and faint._

"_Please…C-clint."_

_Swearing under his breath, he ran in one direction, hoping it was the right one. _

_The smog lifted a little but it was still dark, the soft echoes of the voice following him. _

_Then, a new one. One he detested more than anything. Loki's. "I didn't even need to be around to make you hurt her it seems. What a fool. What a mangy cur who couldn't even keep a simple promise. You belong together you two. Both hands dripping with the scarlet blood of other humans."_

"_Where are you?" Clint barked out. Loki's voice annoyed him, when he knew he should be focusing on the other voice. _

_Natasha's voice. But it sounded so wrong to his ears. _

"_Natasha!"_

"_Clint."_

_The darkness seemed to lift in front of him, and he ran that way, feeling like his feet were made of lead. He wanted to reach her, found out why she sounded so unlike herself. Fear was like a poison, slowly seeping into his mind as he imagined what had happened to her. What had happened to her? Was it something he had done?_

_A whooshing sound raced past his ears, and the fog began to clear rapidly, and the darkness vanished to be replaced with the contrasting stark white surrounds. He was clad in his uniform, but the feel of it was foreign. Like this dreamscape, it was spooky and weird, and Clint had seen some pretty messed up shit in his life. A cold sensation slid down his spine, as if being drenched in cold water, and he slowly turned around, knowing he was going to see her._

_When his eyes alighted on her form, he almost threw up._

"_God…Tasha," he whispered, stretching a hand out towards her, but he couldn't move._

_It was the perfect picture of his worst nightmare. _

_The red hair was the only thing about her that was recognisable. She was broken and bloody, and it hurt to describe it. Clint dropped to his knees and covered his mouth with a hand to keep from screaming. It was the single worst thing he had ever seen in his life. He felt a vice gripping his heart, and he felt like he was suffocating. He couldn't move towards her and he couldn't move away. All there was, was horror and suffering. _

_Her eyes found his somehow. "Clint…why?"_

"_Clint."_

With a gasp, Clint bolted upright, his eyes frantically searching around the small space. When he saw he was in the back of the jet on a bunk, he exhaled shakily and flopped back down to the hard mattress. He hadn't had a nightmare of that sort of intensity for almost three weeks now. So intense that he had broken out into a cold sweat, and he struggled not to make a sound which would denote the weaknesses preying on his subconscious. "Shit," he breathed, raising a shaking hand to thread through his hair to calm himself.

The image of an utterly _destroyed_ Natasha would plague him, no doubt, but what brought the dream on? Was there a hidden sign he had missed, a warning that something would happen to them?

Here he was headed to Spain and yet one nightmare was making him want to quit and flee.

He was Hawkeye. This sort of thing just didn't happen.

Maybe it was the remnants of Loki's possession that were haunting him. Loki was the god of mischief and trickery after all. Perhaps his mind was playing a trick on him that could destroy his professional life, make him regret his actions as of late. Deciding to lie in wait, Clint shoved the images and feelings ruthlessly to the back of his mind and locked them down. He had a job to do. And he couldn't deal with that.

At least, not now.

* * *

Natasha woke the next morning feeling like crap.

Usually, she was a fairly early riser, and when she did wake, it was mostly with a sense of purpose.

Groaning, she rolled over and sat up, placing her head in her hands. This was all messed up. Her emotions were all a jumble and she felt like getting her head read to see if everything was still there. Maybe Clint's parting kiss had lobotomised her in some way.

No. That would be giving him too much credit.

If there was one thing the spy was sure of, it was that she was definitely confused. Where did last night's semi-conversation leave her partnership with Clint? They worked the best when they were together, the team of Black Widow and Hawkeye. They had been steady friends, great partners, and a support to each other in a world full of moments of peace and war. She knew Clint said they would work something out when he came back, but what was there to work out?

A sliver of doubt slipped into her thoughts. Maybe he just wanted to be fuck buddies. Maybe he wanted to do the whole romantic semantics. A grimace crossed Natasha's face. No, she hated both of those options. If her partner even attempted either, he would be dropped in the Antarctic as soon as she could arrange it, Avenger or no Avenger. One of those options would cheapen everything, the other would be so unlike their very souls. What if Clint wanted something a little more normal? She didn't know if she could do 'normal.' The life she had now, that's what she felt was 'normal.'

With a growl, she shut down that line of thought.

One question was important.

What did she want?

_That_ made her think.

Natasha knew she wanted Clint. They had been a part of each other's lives for so long in some way that she would find it difficult to go about her life without him in it. It was one of the founding pillars of their partnership. They relied in each other, trusted each other, and that trust had never been displaced, even with the whole Loki debacle.

As for what way she wanted him…well, she needed a coffee before she thought further about that.

Getting ready for the start of her forced holiday, the redhead decided to take her coffee upstairs to the general area. Maybe there would be some sort of distraction there to keep her mind away from dangerous topics.

The sound of rock music hit her as the elevator doors opened, and Natasha forced the urge to attack down. It was too bloody early to be listening to ACDC, but it looked like Tony was getting a head start.

"Hey Red!" called Tony, jamming it out on guitar hero. He grinned at her before turning back to the game. "Where's Robin Hood?"

"For the record, he hates being called that," Natasha said dryly, choosing the comfiest arm chair to sit on before continuing, "And he's on another mission."

The music stopped abruptly, making Natasha look up sharply. Tony rarely liked to turn off his music.

He was standing there with a gobsmacked look on his face. Well, as gobsmacked as a billionaire hero with a truckload of sarcasm could.

"You've got to be kidding," he said indignantly.

The stony look on the woman's face told him that she was definitely not kidding. "Sonofabitch," cursed Tony under his breath, frowning in rare concern. "Barton barely got any rest after that capture and now he's off again, and Fury isn't giving a shit? I thought he was an ass before, but I only think he worse now."

Shrugging, Natasha said quietly, "It's what he has to do."

Rolling his eyes, Tony mumbled, "Whatever."

Natasha knew that the indignation was Tony's way of expressing his worry, so she didn't reproach him. She merely shut her eyes when the pounding rock started up again. It was grating and annoying, and it made her want to rip that stupid plastic guitar in half with her bare hands, but it was a good distraction. A distraction she was looking for, and she welcomed it.

The elevator doors opened, and Steve Rogers stepped into the area, a towel wrapped around his neck. He had obviously come from the gym. When he saw Natasha, he called out a greeting, which she returned. He couldn't help but notice she looked a little worn out, and Tony's loud music clearly wasn't helping. But Captain America he may be, he wasn't about to point out that the Black Widow looked tired. That would be potentially dangerous. Instead, he decided to do the gentlemanly thing and make breakfast for his teammates. Steve knew Bruce would up here soon too, and hoped for one peaceful breakfast.

It hadn't happened for a while (thanks to a certain billionaire), but hope was eternal. And if Steve had one thing, he had hope.

Working quietly, Steve began to make pancake batter, occasionally wincing when Tony decided to sing along with the songs he was playing along to. Tony Stark was many things, but he was definitely not a good singer.

When he had finished the batter, Steve looked up and jumped a little. Natasha was sitting opposite him at the breakfast bar, watching him closely. He didn't even hear her move. With a little smile, he said, "Hey." He knew if she wanted to say something important, she would say it.

Natasha merely nodded and continued to watch as he moved around, grabbing a pan and butter to melt in it. She was curious. She hadn't had the luxury of a breakfast meal like pancakes for a long time. It was mainly toast and coffee for her. It fascinated her that such a masculine person like Steve knew how to cook. Tony didn't know. What he didn't know about cooking could fill a book. Thor…don't get her started. He bragged about his specialty of roasting boars at least once each time he came to Earth. Bruce she knew had admitted his love for making curries, stir-fry's and practically nothing else. Clint was an all right cook, but she had never seen him make anything like pancakes. To see Steve making enough for the whole team intrigued her.

The smell of the pancakes filled the air as Steve poured each dollop of batter into the pan, flipping it at the right time, and then transferring them to a plate. Each pancake was perfectly light brown and fluffy looking.

"Those look good," Natasha said quietly. Steve heard her anyway and threw another smile her way.

"Yeah, well, it was one of the rare treats when I was a kid. After my dad died, my mom could barely make ends meet. I helped her in the kitchen so she could rest more, y'know. As a reward, mom would save enough money for the ingredients once a month and we'd sleep in on a Saturday before getting up and making pancakes. I learned to make them. It's something I guess I never forgot," he said in a soft, nostalgic tone. He turned more fully to his teammate and offered a pancake with the spatula. "Want one?"

Taking the offered food, Natasha felt grateful for Steve. His considerate nature was a balm to her emotional confusion. He didn't press for any information and was so earnest and unassuming. Taking a bite, she offered a small tilt of her lips and thanked him. "You make them well," she complimented him.

A bigger smile stamped itself over the Cap's visage and he turned his attention back to the food.

Finally, the rock music shut off and Tony's voice carried over from the lounge. "Hey, is that breakfast?"

"Yeah," Steve called back.

"Sweet!" Stark grinned as he bounced into the kitchen, snagging a pancake and stuffing it into his mouth as he headed over to the pantry and grabbed the maple syrup, jam, more butter, and also retrieved some ice cream from the depths of the freezer. "Mmm, hello Ben and Jerry."

The elevator opened for the third time that morning, revealing Pepper chatting with Bruce.

Bruce noticed the smell first and craned his neck to search for the smell. "Is that pancakes?"

"You betcha!" Tony said enthusiastically, sidling up to his girlfriend to give her a good morning kiss. Natasha saw the interaction and couldn't help another smirk that came over her face. Tony, as much as he could be an idiot and a child, he wasn't afraid to be affectionate with Pepper. She was good for taming the impulsive genius.

Bruce shook his head and, doing his part, set the table.

Everyone began to seat themselves, save for Natasha. She stood for a moment, simply observing. Everyone here was either happy or content. She was neither. The picture looked perfect, and she didn't know where she fit in. When they looked at her, noticing she was silent and unmoving, Tony was the one to say teasingly, "You know, unless you're Spiderman, I'm pretty sure those pancakes aren't going to fly to your hand from here."

The epiphany hit her then. She was becoming part of a family who was accepting her for who she was, regardless of what she had done or would do.

Shaking her head in amusement, she took her place and lost herself in the chatter of her teammates. This was relaxing. A better distraction than Tony's rock music.

She only wished Clint was here to share in the feeling.

* * *

Seeing as she hadn't really contributed to the making of their breakfast, Natasha decided to play nice and offered to clean up. People underestimated the motion of washing the dishes. If your space was quiet and there was no one to bother you, cleaning up could be oddly therapeutic. It hadn't been too hard to clean up anyway. One thing she had to say for her team was that, on the whole, they were fairly tidy eaters. When Thor was here was a completely different matter. He had a habit of forgetting they didn't smash plates or mugs in request for more. She wouldn't have offered to clean then.

She had just finished, feeling soothed, when Steve walked back into the kitchen. She could tell from the uncertainty on his face that he wanted to ask her something but didn't want to anger her or cross any lines.

"Out with it Rogers. What can I do for you?" she asked bluntly.

"Well…I know Clint's not here, and I know you were both captured and rescued-"

"Stark's got a big mouth," Natasha muttered coldly.

"I've heard masking tape won't work on him," Steve replied, holding his hands up in a 'what can you do' gesture. "But I know you and Clint usually spar in the gym. I'm offering to be his replacement. So wanna spar?"

Ooh, a challenge. She and Clint were pretty evenly matched with different strengths, but Steve posed a new dimension to sparring – considering he was a bit superhuman. She hadn't sparred with him before.

"Looking to get your ass kicked?" Natasha asked nonchalantly, tramping down her excitement.

"If it's an ass kicking at your hands, I gladly submit myself to it," he replied with yet another of his easy smiles.

"All right. Meet you down there in ten minutes."

* * *

_This_ Natasha relished. The challenge. She and Captain America circled each other, waiting for the other to attack. She knew she would attack first, she had less patience, but the dragging out of the actions were fun. The adrenaline surge wasn't for life or death. It was for pure enjoyment.

They were in their suits, except the Cap left his headpiece off in deference to her, seeing as she rarely protected her head. It screwed with her peripheral vision and other senses.

She leapt at him, aiming at his shoulder with a fist, but feinted, instead bringing a foot up to kick him in the stomach. He was a little taken aback (Natasha guessed he was warring with his innate chivalry) and she got the hit in, but he brushed it off like one would a pesky fly.

"C'mon Black Widow, you got more than that," he said, lashing out with his own fists.

And so they continued. Jabbing, blocking, kicking. Black Widow danced around, trying to find a weakness. Captain America's superhuman capabilities meant he tired out slower than she did, was more resistant to the hits she did get in, and he was physically stronger than her. They continued their spar for an hour, and Natasha was getting frustrated. She was defending and attacking well, but they were at a stalemate thanks to her stubbornness.

She decided to try something a little…unorthodox, but a move that had got her the title of having the deadliest thighs in SHIELD.

With a snarl, she jumped high, her legs going wide.

The expression of shock on Steve's face just before her thighs wrapped around his head was priceless. Using all of the strength in her body, she jerked back and let them tumble to the floor. She twisted as she fell, utilising her flexibility so she landed on top of Steve. She released her thighs and flipped over to straddle him, her fist raised. However, seeing his face…she chuckled and shook her head. Mr. Guy Next Door's cheeks were blazing in a blush.

"Oh God," Steve groaned. "Those thighs are definite weapons."

"Mmm. You know, I'll promise not to kill you if you answer one question."

"Yeah?"

"Are you still a virgin Cap?" Natasha asked innocently, genuinely curious. She had never seen anyone have such a reaction to that move. Most were stunned, some were lecherous, but completely embarrassed? Nope, this was a first.

If anything, the blush deepened to cherry and Steve mumbled, "Yes. Well before my transformation, I wasn't really much of a catch. After it…I just never had time."

Natasha chuckled at his innocence and stood, offering him a hand to help him up. "Don't worry Steve. I'm sure Stark will hook you up with someone when he gets the chance."

"Oh don't remind him. He tried once while you and Hawk were gone," said Steve, still embarrassed as he stood.

"Well, thanks for the spar. Really helped," the redhead replied and shook his hand, turning and heading towards the exit of the gym.

"Hey, Natasha," Steve called out. "If you ever need to spar again, don't hesitate to ask, you know. I actually enjoyed the challenge of it all."

Her only response was a nod and cryptic smirk before departing.

But inside, Natasha was thrilled. Another distraction.

* * *

**A/N: I wanted to do a bit of a slower chapter after the rushed feeling of the last chapter. I hope you really enjoyed the team bonding moments. **

**Natasha's feeling a bit angsty huh? Yeah, she's gonna be like that for a little bit. And what do you think about the idea that she and Cap have a good friendship? **

**Reviews are VERY much appreciated. *dreams of all people who watch the story reviewing* :D Thanks for the support guys. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank YOU to all reviewers/favouriters/alerters. Just letting everyone know that the last chapter is not going to be for a while yet. I have a few twists and turns I'm going to throw in, and I'm planning on separating Clint and Natasha for a little while. I know people want to see them get back together, but for purposes of plot, separation is needed. **

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings. **Plus, slight smut warning for this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 10**

* * *

Tony Stark fiddled with an engine part, deep in the engine of his latest Audi. But in truth, he wasn't really focussed on the car, as beautiful a machine as it was. His mind was miles away, bubbling away with anger at Nick Fury and the situation Clint was in. Selfishly, he was disappointed that he didn't get to have any buddy-buddy time with the archer. Clint was just as silver tongued as he was at times. Especially when drunk. And he was one of the few who could keep up with his insults. But in other ways, he thought it ridiculous that so soon after capture that Hawkeye was back in the field. Tony knew he worked late and ridiculous hours sometimes, but he more than made up for it with his bouts of hedonism.

Not to mention it was only one day and the infamous Black Widow was looking, dare he say it, a little mopey. The most alive he had seen her today was after her sparring session in the gym. She had looked victorious. But he wasn't suicidal enough to mention anything like that to her.

It made him wonder what had happened between the two agents during capture. He had heard Clint's statement. It had _sounded_ truthful. But now he had cause to doubt.

It was another reason why he was a little pissed at Fury. While at least Natasha had some time to rest and do what she wanted, Barton had none. Something was up for Fury to just unfeelingly send Batron off to do some mission in .

So there he sat, stewing, when Pepper came down into the workshop.

"Hey you," she greeted. When she received a grunt in reply it had her worrying. It was late at night and Tony was still here in the basement of the tower. It usually meant he was over-thinking something. Interpreting his body language, she murmured, "It's about Agent Barton not being here, isn't it?"

"Mmm," hummed Tony distractedly.

Rolling her eyes, Pepper carefully embraced him from behind, feeling his tense muscles give a little under her touch. It was their own personal code for 'I'm here for you.' It usually got the dark-haired man to open up.

"I'm plotting," Tony finally announced, backing up and shutting the hood of the car.

"Make sure it won't piss off Fury too much," warned Pepper, making Tony smirk. Of course. Pepper knew things.

"I promise not too much. Just enough to make him come and see me. Like a high school prank. I haven't done one of those in a while," replied the genius.

"Tony, your idea of a prank is probably SHIELD's idea of an act of terrorism against them," the woman said, shaking her head in amusement. She couldn't help but agree. Not giving someone a rest between missions seemed a bit harsh to her. She would stand by whatever her partner would do, regardless of the consequences. Pepper gave him a quick kiss, mentioning that she hoped that he would come up to bed soon, and left.

But Tony was already back in his own world.

And he had a plan forming in his head too. His grin got bigger. Oh, hacking into the SHIELD mainframe was going to be so much fun.

But tomorrow. He'd do it tomorrow. There was a strawberry blonde upstairs waiting for him.

* * *

_The sheets were the softest silk, the air was perfumed with the scent of lilies, the aroma of her perfume, and the musk of the sweet sweat glistening on their bodies. It was a moment almost too pure for words. The two people writhing in sweet, blissful torture on the bed were lost in each other, the sensation taking over their bodies. _

_Natasha slowly moved, up and down, impaling herself in bliss, her crimson locks in damp strands. The slow pace was both pleasurable and excruciating. It was an exercise in control, something she was running out of, and from the clouded, lusty look in her partner's eyes, Clint was fast running out of his own self-control too. She leaned forward, barely brushed her lips against his in a slow tease, letting a soft whimper escape, knowing it would test her lover. He groaned, his hands curling around her hips and guiding her down more forcefully on his shaft. _

_She purposefully clenched, then relaxed, and then did it again, wringing another delicious groan from Clint's open lips._

"_You like that…don't you?" she purred, rolling her hips as she was guided back and forth, up and down again._

"_Oh yeah baby," he replied in his own low purr that sent shivers down her spine. _

_Natasha straightened, and she caught the mischievous gleam in Clint's eye, although honestly, how he found the energy to be mischievous…this was their third round tonight. _

_In a move of both power and grace, Clint tumbled them over so he was above her, carefully positioning her legs so that they were almost obscenely wide and her ankles were near her head. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and his gaze was heavy on where they were joined. "So beautiful. You can't believe how hot you look. All for me. God Tasha, I love the feel of you, being in you, being with you."_

_And then he moved, just as slow as before, but with more intensity, more focus, all on their mutual pleasure…_

Natasha's eyes flew open.

Oh God. It had been a dream. It had been her first erotic dream ever since…well, she couldn't really remember if she had erotic dreams. Much less about Clint and herself. Sitting upright, she realised that she was radiating heat, and the touch of the simple sheets on her body set off tiny whispers of sensation through her nervous system. It was a little embarrassing that she knew that beneath her underwear, her nether regions were definitely wet.

There was an unsolved hum in her body that would go unanswered, but Natasha knew that in the micro-second after waking that she had felt a distinct wave of disappointment. She had _wanted_ to be experiencing that dream. The detail had been so real.

"Get. Over. It," she ordered herself.

But Natasha was a smart woman. She knew she wouldn't get over it any time soon.

And truthfully, she didn't really want to. Clint made her feel something. He had been the one to break down the robot-like life she had led. What had transpired between them recently had opened up new doors for her with the potential to be so much more. Clint made her feel…alive. Truly alive. The native Russian thought that she had experienced life at last when she joined SHIELD and gained the friendship of the naturally reclusive Hawkeye. But that was _nothing_ compared to the blazing inferno of emotion that burned within her now. Having sex together, being so much more as best friends who trusted each other completely, had opened a new side to her, one that she never knew existed.

It made her question the saying 'love is for children.'

However, the one person she felt could understand her and her emotions was gone, on another continent.

Natasha realised she didn't have everything sorted out yet. That was fine. As long as Clint wasn't gone for too long.

If Clint did take longer on the mission, she probably would go a little crazy. Especially with the weird little unit that had evolved from a mere initiate to become her family, as simple and as complicated as that single word was. As good as they were together, they had the potential to be destructive once more as well. Bruce had summed it up all too well back on the helicarrier. They were a chemical reaction ready to blow. For now, they were stable (and hopefully, they would be for a while more), but there was always that potential…

Natasha turned her thoughts to her team in an effort to cool her desires that were swimming on the surface of her feelings.

Tony had tamed a bit now that he was less on the verge of dying, and trying to be a good boyfriend to Pepper. He was still annoying, egotistical, and as brilliant as ever, but there was a less reckless side to him that came out more often. His near brushes with death had made some maturity gene kick in at last. But only a little bit. Enough for those who knew him to see the subtle change. Natasha believed that part of the change was also making peace with his father's memory, acknowledging that the relationship he had with his father was screwed up, but it had helped to shape who he was.

Bruce was quiet, kind in a slightly quirky way, and watched CSI whenever he had some time off. He had been a little wary around her at first, fearing he was going to Hulk out in remembrance of what happened on the helicarrier. But after a few awkward talks, she had found that Bruce was apologetic and genuine as he could be. He did prefer seclusion, and it suited him, but there were times when she observed he need some sort of human connection. Like breakfast yesterday.

Thor was…Thor. He was grandiose on first impression and yet take away his formal Asguardian wear and put him in some regular clothes, and he was simply a guy who liked Shakespeare. And food. Lots of food. There was practically nothing Thor wouldn't eat on Earth. The only food he didn't seem too fond of were mangoes. When he wasn't in the midst of battle, he was personable and warm, a real communicator. He didn't hesitate to let his opinions be known, but was wise enough when the time called to stay silent. Natasha knew that she had underestimated him at first, thinking him a little simple minded. But he was a good person. A little over-enthusiastic at times, but events transpired had made him wise, rather than arrogant as he had been.

Steve was an interesting one.

He and Thor were alike in that the technologies of the world confounded them at times. Oh how they had jumped and yelped like little boys when JARVIS had first greeted them in the tower. At least they both were learning to drive modern cars and use mobile phones – it had been interesting to find that the only phone Thor was trusted to handle were the massive, brick-like Nokias from before the turn of the century.

But time had not erased Steve's sense of right and wrong, and other qualities from his own era. Take today for instance. Natasha let a little smirk express itself as she remembered how embarrassed he had been when she had tackled him with her legs. Still a virgin (not that there was anything wrong with that. It was oddly sweet), still a gentleman, and an all around good guy. And, he could cook. A team leader that could cook racked up bonus points as far as she was concerned.

He, like their whole team, had his own demons too. Natasha knew because sometimes, faintly, she could hear him sobbing. He lived in the other apartment on this level, so it was logical. From what she had read in his file, he had lost a lot. His father, his mother just before adulthood, all of those he knew back in the 1940's. Peggy Carter was a special name that had come to mind. She and Howard Stark had helped create SHIELD. James 'Bucky' Barnes was another name. His file had been sealed, so she wondered what was being hidden there. Cap was suited to leadership. Sometimes he said harsh things out of frustration, but he listened and was fairly good at strategy.

Personally, she liked him. He had a warm spirit. She could find herself reluctantly confiding in him.

Only if she was desperate. Until then, she was keeping everything about her and Clint close. It was too early to show her hand just yet.

Slumping back down, Natasha hoped that she could find sleep before the sun rose. Without any nice sensual dreams. She suspected she would long for them if they kept happening.

* * *

Unbeknownst to a certain redhead, Clint Barton, half a world away, was having the same problem.

For the second time in a row he had woken up from sleep in a sweat. Only this was hot, and the hard-on growing underneath the sheet of his tattered sheets only reminded him if the dream he had experienced. Natasha, above and below him, having her in any way possible, caught in her sexual prowess and beauty.

To be honest, this sort of dream had not been a stranger to him, especially where his partner was concerned. He much preferred them to nightmares reliving all the atrocities he had committed.

However, things were different. He and Natasha had actually acted on their desires, and, instead of feeling his thirst quenched, he only found a craving for more.

It was love.

Not the silly, sappy kind of love (that kind of affection worked for some people, but he knew he was just not applicable to that kind of emotion), but the deep, soul-searing love. The type where you knew you just could not go without the other person if they were to disappear from your life through breakup, death, or some other unfortunate circumstance. To live without them would be a half life. A cursed life. Clint had no doubt that if it came to it, he would gladly give up his own life for Natasha's. Simply because his world wouldn't be _right_ without her.

Too keyed up to go back to sleep, the archer rose from his makeshift bed and headed for the shower. Perhaps a nice cold one would help take care of his…problem.

He was in Spain, finally, holed up with his fellow agents in a warehouse. There were no rooms, so everyone made their own space. He had chosen the highest place in the warehouse, on top of what must have previously been some kind of managers office. The others had ribbed him a little for making his own 'nest,' and it rang with truth. He was above he others, with a fantastic position for sniping if someone unauthorised entered the warehouse. Avoiding a trap he had set up in case of intruders, Clint made his way to the single shower.

Although he went through the motions of shedding his clothes, turning on the shower, his mind was still circling with thoughts. The mission popped up every now and then, but he wasn't really concerned about that. If all the rest of the agents did their part as planned, this could be so easy that he could do it with his eyes shut. He might even shut his eyes for a bit of a challenge actually.

No, his mind was back home with his partner and his new team.

He longed for Natasha, but he also strangely missed his team.

Seeing Tony at the rescue had been good. He had been looking forward to a night on the town, laughing at a drunk Tony as he attempted to dance, while a bewildered Steve Rogers looked on. He had also been looking to playing guitar. He was even thinking about letting Bruce in on his session again. The resident geek had mentioned something about 'the other guy' liking music. Weird. Hey, different strokes for different folks. Heck, he even wanted Thor to come back to Earth so they could have another belching contest with him and the rest of the guys on the team. Last time had been enlightening and fun.

It would all have to happen after he finished this shitty mission though.

Clint had never really had anyone to miss.

Well, there had been Coulson. Phil. Phil had been almost like a brother to him. In a 'I'm your handler' kind of way. He was quick and witty, and had always made sure that Clint's mission logs had been impeccable. He had also been one of the few to advocate his decision to bring Natasha into SHIELD instead of following the kill order.

But apart from that, he was a real lone wolf…or Hawk, as it were. To miss someone that wasn't Natasha was odd.

Natasha though…her he positively ached for. Like a junkie after their first hit, he wanted more. The feel of her soft skin over those taut muscles, her hair brushing over his skin, the passions unlocked when their lips touched…

Well, those thoughts were completely messing with the concept of a cold shower.

With a sigh, Clint switched the temperature to hot and reached down to the erection between his legs. There was only one solution to this, and he'd be damned if he didn't think of porcelain skin, green eyes, and crimson locks as he did so.

* * *

**A/N: Ta-da! New chapter!**

**Some of you wanted a bit of Clint in this, so here you go! I hope I've made his own feelings a bit clearer. Same with Natasha. Hope her stance is a bit clearer too. **

**I also wanted a bit more of the rest of the team, so I decided to write how each of them thought about their team. **

**I also thought you would enjoy a little snippet of smut. :D Enjoy. **

**Ooh…what's Tony planning? XD**

**Reviews are very much appreciated, keep up the good reviewing skills!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hey guys! THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR REVIEWS. They really do mean a lot to me. And thanks to Dragonball265 for inspiring the confrontation between Fury and Tony by doing one of their reviews. **

**On another note guys, I've noticed that has decided to purgee some stories because of content, thankfully, mine isn't one of them yet. HOWEVER if it happens, I will create a LiveJournal and post this story up on there. But until then… Let BlackHawk soldier on!**

**And…ooh, lookie there. Thor's in this chapter :D I've always thought of him as being more affectionate when he's not in battle. Especially after the movie 'Thor.'**

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 11**

* * *

Nick Fury didn't like waking up to chaos. It meant shit needed fixing. And when he was woken up abruptly and unexpectedly by the incessant buzzing of three of his sub-commanders comm. calls on the helicarrier, he knew it was one of those days where there was chaos and shit needed fixing.

Jabbing the button on the comm. link, he growled, "There better be _something_ wrong."

"Yes there is sir," a male replied. "There is a situation with the computers on deck sir…actually, it's all computers on the helicarrier. It's…they're…Well sir, it's best if you come and see the damage yourself."

"Be down there soon," grunted Fury, mashing the button in an attempt to turn it off, and then slumping down on his bed. It would be nice to have one perfect day. But when you were the Director of an international enforcement body, perfect days were hard to come by. Hoisting himself out of his bed, he got ready with simple military precision, out of his quarters in less than ten minutes from when the call had come in.

Marching on deck, he barked, "What the hell is wrong?"

All his staff looked at him and pointed at their monitors. With a sigh, Nick did the same.

At first, it was blank. All the computers were blank. As Fury stared at his one, suddenly a song came out of each computer. There were groans all around him that told him this song had already played itself at least twice. It was some pop song with sugary sweet vocals. "Call me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen. Fury felt like dropping his professionalism and shooting out each computer monitor as the song continued to play. It was highly annoying and it obviously was preventing his agents from accessing their work and making sure the world was kept safe.

When the song finished, he could hear the grinding of his own teeth just before the monitors lit up and various Looney Tunes began to play. His agents who were less computer savvy than others could only stare in bewilderment, while computer techs and other agents who knew their way around a computer system were feverishly trying to fix the problem, but to no avail.

"Sir," Maria Hill said, stepping up to her boss, glaring at the nearest computer.

"Hill. When did this begin?"

"About an hour ago. When all the screens went blank, we thought it was some kind of electrical failure, but a call to the electrical room confirmed that all applications should be up and running with no problems. Our techs have been on it ever since but cannot determine the source. We believe it is a virus-hack of some kind. Perhaps an act of terrorism towards us, as they intend to put us out of commission because we are unable to access our technologies," she reasoned, glancing at her Director, raising an eyebrow in question.

Fury looked around, taking in the chaos. "Who decided to call me?"

"Agents Wilson, Cabree, and Trace," Maria replied.

'Call me maybe,' decided to play once more, and an idea formed in Fury's mind. It was far-fetched…but would he really do such a thing in a call for attention?

Then again, Stark _had_ hacked into their database before.

"Before we declare anything, let me make a phone call," Nick said, pulling out his cell and typing in Tony Stark's number, grumpily blowing out a long breath of air. He didn't have time for this bullshit. If Stark was doing this for a bit of fun, he was seriously misguided if he thought Fury was a pushover.

The phone rang, and then picked up with a jovial voice saying, "Well, it only took you an hour to figure it out. Really, the song should have been your first clue."

"Stark," Fury bit out angrily.

"Hey, nice to hear from you too man. Wanna catch up for drinks soon?" Tony asked, leaning back in his chair, enjoying the sounds of chaos in the background of Fury's call. Ah, but that had been a fun challenge.

"Cut the crap. What do you want Stark? If you say 'nothing,' I'll make sure that JARVIS will become property of SHIELD," the Director ordered angrily.

"Take a chill pill, I can hear your blood pressure rising from here. It's not 'nothing,' by the way. It's a way of getting your attention. We need to talk. In person. Preferably here in my tower, not in that invisible cage you call a helicarrier. I think it's about something you don't want to have over the phone," Tony said in a more serious tone of voice. He knew it irked Fury to have to come to him, but he wasn't going to discuss such sensitive information around all of the SHIELD flunkies.

"Fine. I'll be there as soon as I can." Fury then hung up without saying goodbye, leaving Tony to smirk. Yeah, this was interesting.

It had taken a day to hack into the SHIELD mainframe. How long would it take for Fury to get here?

* * *

As it turned out, the next day while Tony was working on his new suit, Mark VIII, JARVIS announced he had a very important visitor waiting in the Avengers lounge.

"Tell him to have a scotch and I'll be up there in a minute," Tony told his AI, clearing up some pieces and making sure everything was safely away enough so he could talk to Popeye.

"He seems impatient sir. He actually accepted my offer of an alcoholic beverage," JARVIS said.

_That_ made Tony pause. Huh. Maybe the Director of SHIELD did need a good stiff drink every now and then. Hey, he could sympathise.

Making his way up, he wasn't even in the room for two seconds when Fury saw him and demanded, "You got me here, what the hell do you want?"

"Touchy much? Just drink your scotch and we'll talk. You know, I feel like I'm in an alternate universe right now, with you drinking booze. I thought you were above commoners," the genius said, a little mockingly. He couldn't help it, he wished he could take a picture of the infamous Nick Fury having alcohol.

Snorting in derision, Nick said, "If you had to deal with all this shit lately, you'd be pouring another four in preparation. Now I'm here. Talk. While I still want to talk."

Tony paused, grabbing his own drink and thinking this through. The time for sarcasm and teasing was not now, and he really did want answers in regards to his missing teammate. He sat opposite Fury and asked quietly, "Will you be honest?"

"Is this room secure?"

"Sure," he replied, getting what Fury was trying to say.

"Then I'll answer everything I possibly can," Nick responded, taking another sip of alcohol, almost as if to burn away the words that would come out of his mouth.

"Right then. Let me begin by saying something. When I was going through all that crap a few years ago, with the palladium almost killing me and Vanko trying to do the same thing, you were really straight with me in terms of you knew what was happening to me. You helped me live. And I thought you were all right, because you helped me also sort out the shit I still felt for my father. But lately you've been even more closed off and secretive. I get that you're a spy, Nick, I really do." Tony paused from his ramble, hoping the man opposite him was still listening. When Fury nodded, he went on, "And I know you do right by your agents. So why the hell have you decided to send Barton off on some mission so soon after capture? It can't be because you need him."

Fury finished off his drink, but didn't say a word, staring at the empty glass for a long time. Tony waited, but he was impatient. He wanted to know!

Finally looking back up, there was a less guarded expression on the dark skinned face. "It's not just because we need him. There were two other agents in place."

"Ha! I knew it!" Tony interrupted angrily.

"Shut up and listen," growled Nick. His eye glared at Tony which made him quieten immediately. "I did it for his protection."

Seeing Stark cant his head to the side in confusion, Fury realised that he really would need to elaborate.

"The Council has been a Council of Assholes recently, even more so when I told them that the Avengers would not be under their thumb. They've been monitoring me and SHIELD as a whole more closely ever since. It's stupid, but I have to keep SHIELD from being completely controlled by their whims. They addressed the concern about Agent Barton; that he may not be fit for field duty because of two things. One being his mind control by Loki. The other being that he may be compromised through his friendship with Agent Romanoff," he explained, settling back into the comfortable leather of the couch. He might as well enjoy luxury while he had it. He almost chuckled then at Stark's jaw-dropped expression.

"But Natasha and Clint work well together," Tony said, uncomprehending of such stupidity.

"They do, but while I don't really care as long as it doesn't affect performance, the Council frowns on relationships of any kinds, even friendships," Fury pointed out with barely muted disgust. "So when Hawkeye was captured with Black Widow, I knew the Council were looking for an excuse for getting rid of one of them. So I separated them. If Barton can pull off this mission, then I'll let him rest for as long as he needs." There was another long pause between the two men before Fury decided to volunteer another piece of information. "It's also because I suspect that something happened during capture between Barton and Romanoff. If it did…then good for them. They have been my best agents ever since they teamed up and I'm willing to make some exceptions for them. If worst comes to worst, I will relieve them of their full duties to SHIELD so they aren't under the Council's jurisdiction, but instead their own. Under Avenger jurisdiction if you want to call it that."

Tony took a few minutes to absorb all this. Thank God Fury was on their side. He actually liked their team if he was willing to do this. Finally, he murmured, "Thanks for being honest."

"Only Steve can know about this," warned Nick.

"Yeah, of course. Y'know you want a take away cup of something? Vodka? Midori? More scotch? You look like you need it."

Fury rolled his eyes. Same old Stark. "No. And next time you feel like talking to me, perhaps reverting to the old fashioned method of _calling?_ Or e-mailing? Pranking is beneath you."

"Then it wouldn't be fun!" exclaimed Tony, but he nodded anyway and waved the man off as he turned and walked away back to his SHIELD duties.

* * *

Bruce was the first one to know that Thor had returned to Earth.

He was peacefully watching a new episode of CSI alone in the Avengers lounge when a booming voice made him jump in surprise.

"GREETINGS BRUCE BANNER!"

"Jesus Christ Thor! Inside voice!" admonished the scientist, clutching the area over his heart and taking deep breaths, making extra sure 'the other guy' wasn't in the mood to play with a thunder god. When he was calmed, he stood and turned around, ready to properly greet Thor, but the words died in his mouth at the sight of the humongous beast Thor had in his arms and was carefully setting down on the tiled floor of the kitchen. It had reddish-brown skin, four spikes rising out of its forehead and tiny tail. It looked dangerous.

"What…is _that_?" asked Bruce, torn between curiosity at wanting to see the huge thing, and awe at it. And how Thor had even got it up here without making a mess.

With a big, proud grin, the blonde-haired man slapped the dead animal's rump and announced, "It is our feast for tonight. This is an Epigshkin, a ferocious boar found in the south point of Asgard. Only the bravest warrior will go after it, and only the greatest of warriors out of those will catch one single-handedly. This is my fifth, and I am proud to share its succulent flesh with my friends." Thor looked around, and asked, "Where are the others?"

Shrugging, his eyes still fixated on the massive pig, Bruce answered, "Clint is away on a mission, I think Cap and Nat are sparring, and Tony is coming back from a business meeting with Pepper."

"The Hawk is away?" Thor asked in a much softer tone.

"Yeah."

The thunder god frowned and murmured under his breath, "So that explains Heimdall's parting words to me."

Bruce's eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?"

"It is nothing my friend. In the meantime, let us find the remainder of our fine comrades so they can witness the might of my kill," Thor replied, his easy smile returning, draping an arm around the scientist's shoulders and steering him towards the elevator. Bruce couldn't help his own small smile. He was comfortable with Thor (especially since he seemed very resistant to the Hulk), and because only a person of such a warm nature as Thor would explain all their fucked up friends – present company included…it was practically a requirement to be on this team – as fine comrades.

On their way down to the gym, Thor kept his smile on his face even thought he pondered on Hiemdall's parting words.

"_The Midguardian protectors. Something has changed between the Hawk and the Black Widow. Watch for them. You may help understand the complexities of their emotions as they are separated. You will understand as the Widow is not unlike Lady Sif."_

It meant something was happening with the fair one, Natasha.

Thor had a feeling he was going to be staying on Midguard for at least a month. At least he was surrounded by worthy ones. No matter how tiny they were.

He and Bruce entered the gym to watch as Captain America ducked a well aimed kick and swept Black Widow's legs out from under her before she had time to take a countermeasure. They were so absorbed in their fight that they didn't notice Thor. At least, they didn't notice him until he decided to greet them in pretty much the same manner as he did Bruce. Only a little more enthusiastically.

"Ah what fine sport! I must join you both!" Thor called out, leaving Bruce watching bemusedly as be jumped towards the two, tackling them and hugging them, laughing as they wriggled underneath his bulk. Steve pulled a face at first, but then chuckled, rolling out from Thor when he let them up.

Natasha was slower to smile. She had known Thor was there, but he hadn't been a priority when all her effort was focused on beating Steve. When she had been tackled, her defensive instincts had risen up and she had growled, but then went limp and waited for the god to get up.

Once free, only then did she smile at seeing the easy affection Thor bestowed on everyone. He was a very tactile person, not discriminating in his attention. Not even she was immune, though he was tactful with touching her. He always made a noise just before he did so to give her fair warning. Right now, he and Steve had finished play fighting like little boys, and he turned to her, happiness sparkling in his eyes.

"And how goes it, fair Natasha?" he asked, making sure his actions were in her full view before grasping her shoulders gently.

"Life," she replied cryptically, returning with rare affection of her own and patting his shoulder.

Thor nodded, released her and turned to them all with a wide smile. "I have a gift for you all as part of our nightly feast. But first, where is the man of iron?"

"Right here," Tony's unmistakable voice said from the doorway. He yanked off his tie, throwing it carelessly behind him, not seeing as Pepper rolled her eyes and caught it and left the team in peace.

"Ah, there you are!" Thor boomed, rushing over to lift the billionaire in a bone-crushing hug.

"Hey! Easy there Point Break," Tony yelped. He could never get used to Thor's hugs.

"I am simply glad that I am back with you all," Thor said. "Come come, back to our 'together area,' for my surprise."

Bruce smirked behind his hand. Oh yes, it definitely was surprising to see that Epigshkin.

When they entered the Avengers area, Thor sped in front of his team and proudly stood in front of the beast, enjoying the looks of disbelief on their faces. Of course they wouldn't believe it! As he said before, everything here on Earth was tiny compared to Asguard.

Natasha was the first to recover from her initial surprise. "Well…I guess you weren't boasting about that roast then."

The team all grinned and chuckled a bit then at her comment, before Tony and Thor discussed the right place for Thor to prepare the beast without making too much of a mess. And a place that, if he did happen to make a mess, Pepper wouldn't freak out about. The others went back to their own activities, hoping that come dinner time, things wouldn't be a disaster.

Five hours later, the tower was still intact, and when the whole team came into the Avengers floor, the smell of roasting pork wafted inside from the balcony, where Tony had rigged up a type of roaster that had cooked the cleaned Epigshkin meat from inside out. Thor was carefully basting the meat in its juices. Natasha hung back while the guys got together to look at and talk about the food. It brought a smirk to her face. Well, at least Thor had the confirmed cooking skill of knowing how to made a killer roast. It was unique too, this meat. She could tell by the smell. It had a sweet and spicy smell to it.

The opening of the elevator drew her attention.

Pepper was struggling with three bowls, so Natasha went over and helped her. She was gifted with a smile of thanks. "I heard we're having roast," Pepper said, her eyes widening when she saw just how much meat there was in the roaster. "Wow. That's enough to feed an Army."

"Or just Thor and Steve," quipped Natasha.

Pepper grinned, turning to the other woman and saying sincerely, "It's good to see you all adjusting. But _I'm_ having trouble adjusting to seeing you all in normal clothes. I always think of you all in uniforms."

The redhead looked down at her casual jeans and shirt and replied, "Sometimes I do too."

A kind of awkward silence settled between them, which prompted Pepper to break it.

"Well, I got apple sauce, gravy, and a salad. The cook is going to send up more as we need it."

"That'll go well with the meat," mused Natasha. One thing that was great about living in Stark Tower was that she ate well. Food was not exactly straight out of a restaurant menu living on the helicarrier, and on missions there was never enough time to have a good decent meal until the end. Pork and apple sauce was practically a delicacy in her way of life.

The guys looked like stereotypical guys out on a weekend barbeque. They were all in casual clothing and were debating the best way to serve the massive boar meat. Carve it in slices or just shave bits off a la shawarma? It made her and Pepper chuckle when Thor and Tony got into a heated debate over which way to carve it. Thor wanted to use a sword if one was available, while Tony wanted to use a laser to see the effect it had on the meat. Steve was the one to get fed up, retrieve a plate and the largest knife he could find and then began to hack away at the roast.

Everyone moved into gear then, working fluidly to get their dinner on the table. It was a true team effort, and before long they were all seated and enjoying the surprisingly tender and tasty Epigshkin.

Only again, Natasha wished fervently that Clint was here to enjoy the food and company as much as she was.

* * *

Full and socially sated, the spy had slunk back to her apartment after dinner, deciding to look for more daggers. She grabbed her laptop and moved to the couch, relaxing into the plush surface. It was truly a hobby of hers, collecting the bejewelled daggers. She had five, but wanted another. The first one was her phoenix dagger. It had a ruby that flashed like fire whenever she wielded it, held in the talons of the phoenix rising. The other four had different jewels. She had diamond, sapphire, garnet, and yellow tourmaline, but now she wanted an emerald one to nicely round off her set. Perhaps after that, an onyx one if she wished.

Natasha was just searching through E-Bay when someone knocked at her door.

Immediately, suspicion entered her expression. Hardly anyone ever came to her door and if they did, it was usually Clint.

Shutting the screen, knowing she probably wouldn't get to search again sometime soon, the redhead opened it and was surprised to see Steve there.

"Hey. I want to talk to you about something. Can I come in?" the blonde asked quietly.

"Sure."

They went to the couch, Natasha waiting for her friend (yes, she had tentatively been calling him a friend) to speak. Steve looked a little annoyed and bashful, an odd combination. A sudden thought occurred to Natasha and she spoke before Steve could even think to get out any words.

"Please don't tell me you're here to ask me out," she drawled out sardonically.

Steve finally looked at her and then, suddenly, began to laugh.

Natasha's brows snapped together and she demanded, "What's so funny?"

Steve saw her getting a little upset, and before a well placed kick to the head would eventuate from her ire, he calmed down, still grinning. "Whatever gave you that idea? The answer is no, by the way. I mean, I like you as a friend, but I just can't think of you 'that' way."

"Well, you treat me differently from the way the other guys on the team treat me. You were the first to offer to spar," pointed out the red-haired woman, crossing her arms.

"I think it's just how I treated women in the 40's. And as for the offer to spar…I think Tony fears he'll have his family jewels out of commission, while Bruce thinks one encounter with the Hulk should be enough for you, and Thor just hasn't been around to spar with. I knew you needed to do something physical while you were away from SHIELD for two weeks anyway," explained Steve in a more sober tone, although merriment was twinkling in his eyes.

Natasha was still frowning a little, but Steve couldn't lie well. If he was lying, it would have shown.

"Okay then. So what did you want to ask?"

"Well…" the bashfulness was back, and he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck in nervousness. "You know how Tony has been trying to take me out and get me together with some girl?" At Natasha's nod, Steve continued. "Well, I've been resisting, but he's really pushing for it. I told him I'll find girls on my own time, and he said without him I'd get nothing. But truthfully, I don't like to go where he goes, and that's out to clubs. I want to do something different, but I need someone to guide me. And I want someone to help show Tony that his way is not always the best."

Steve paused again, and then said, "So what I'm asking really is a favour. Natasha, can you help me on the dating scene?"

Natasha was silent, a little shocked. She wasn't exactly Ms. Relationship Guru.

"Why me?"

"You're a woman-"

"Doesn't mean anything," pointed out Natasha sharply.

"It helps. It's better than _Tony_," replied Steve. "Besides, you are probably less likely to drag me up to some club. And I think you will be able to help me. You've got good people reading skills that'll help pick out the good ones from bad ones." When Natasha still looked unconvinced, Steve did the only thing he thought he could do. Shuffling a little closer, he widened his eyes to create his best 'puppy' look.

The redhead smirked and replied, "That won't work on me."

"Worth a try."

After deliberating, Natasha said, "You better make me pancakes whenever I ask for them if you want me to do this."

"Deal!" grinned the exuberant Captain, shaking his teammate's hand in sealing the deal. He stood, and glanced her way. He stared at her so long she rolled her eyes and said, "Spit it out Rogers."

After a moment's hesitation, Steve murmured, "You know, once if I had saw you from a distance I might have asked you out. You are pretty. But from the moment I really met you I knew no one else had a chance with you. Because you were already gone to someone else."

Natasha's demeanour abruptly changed and she became like ice as she asked in a soft, dangerous voice, "What do you mean?"

Shaking his head, Steve said, "You don't even see it do you? You were unavailable to the rest of the world the day you met Clint. Even if you guys don't have a relationship, and it's not my business to pry if you do, it's easy to see how much you both support each other. And face it. You were the one to practically pull this team together in your efforts to rescue Clint from Loki's mind control. That enough is evidence to show how much you care about him." When he saw her sitting in silence, annoyance radiating off her, he said in a gentler tone, "It's nothing to be ashamed of. At least, I don't think it is. Love has all forms, and for all this world has changed…I still have the childish dream in believing love can and will prevail."

Steve waited. He wouldn't leave until Natasha let him. He wouldn't disrespect her by dropping a comment like that and leaving.

Natasha was half stunned, half angry. How dare Steve talk about her and Clint? But…he was right. And it wasn't mocking. He was…supportive? Whatever. He wasn't making her feel stupid, and that was enough. "Well, we all have dreams don't we? Good night Steve," she said, dismissing him, telling him she wasn't too mad at his statement.

He left.

And she couldn't help but reflect over his words.

* * *

**A/N: Hoooooooly crap. LONGEST CHAPTER SO FAR! *realises why hands are hurting***

**I hope you liked all the events that happened! A bit more exciting than last chapter I hope! I know Clint wasn't in this one, but he will be in the next, I promise. **

**Just in case people were confused on how to pronounce it, I say 'Epigshkin' like 'Eh-pig-shh-kin.'**

**Please review and tell me what you liked! As I say, reviews mean a lot. Thanks!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **WOOT! **Keep up the great reviewing work guys! You all put in a great effort for last chapter! As for this chapter…Clint is back and has to make a decision…And what do three of the Avengers find?**

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings. A bit more violence in this one than the last chapter (which was really happy for this fic).

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 12**

* * *

"C-Man are you in position?"

"Yes. Use code word."

"Uganda."

"Accepted. Situation?"

Hawkeye listened to the chatter over the comms with only half a mind on it. That was merely a formality for this mission. All he was focussed on was his task. He was going to be taking out Miguel Montoya, part of a drug trafficking network that dabbled in humans and weapons on occasion as well. And SHIELD wanted he and the rest of his crime syndicate to be eliminated to create chaos between crime lords in Spain.

"Tango's in position. Will confirm movement," Fox, his team leader for this exercise said loudly. Hawkeye rolled his eyes. How Fox became leader on this he'll never know. He had no finesse. The plan was predictable. Too much so. He didn't like it, but these were his orders. He wasn't the leader this time and couldn't do anything about it at this point.

Still, he readied himself on the roof of a train station that overlooked the dockyard warehouses that were carefully concealed with the premise of legitimate business. It was a clear night, perfect for sniping (whether rifle or bow and arrow) and the air was stagnant.

"The three stooges finishing off their meeting," Fox warned through the comms.

"Hawk in position," murmured Hawkeye softly, letting it be known he was poised and ready. His arrow was nocked and drawn, his sight fixed on the door Montoya was meant to come out of. Clint didn't have to worry about watching his back, seeing as his back was to the wall and several carefully placed traps took care of the path leading up to the roof. The situation as far as assassination missions was pretty good. So why couldn't he shake the feeling that something was going to go pear-shaped?

"Three tango's moving for the door…" Fox whispered.

"Fox, this is Brodes. Got some suspicious unknowns heading my way. Take 'em out?"

"Negative, eyes on targets. Intel said no one but the big three knew about the meeting," Fox replied. Clint couldn't help but roll his eyes. Even the most seasoned agent like him knew that intel wasn't always accurate.

"Copy that," replied Brodes.

Silence over the comms again for a few long moments.

And then everything went wrong.

Instead of calmly walking out of the warehouse, Montoya and his two friends burst out of the warehouse, guns held out in front of them, shooting randomly. Clint moved back, but tried to figure out what was going on. What the event was that changed everything so suddenly. He growled as he heard Fox, obviously shot and choking on his own blood, over the comms. "Tango's gone. Abort. Unfriendlies c-clossssing in…"

"Fox's down!"

"Escape Beta!"

Hawkeye stood on the rooftop, watching Montoya running. The team was saying to run and abort the mission (well really, what was the point now), but he wasn't going to completely give up the past week of being patient for nothing. He stuck his arrow back into his quiver, and used the special mechanism that allowed him to switch between specialised arrowheads. He pulled out the new arrow and sent it soaring over towards Montoya, carefully watching it. It flew over the target's head just as something small and black dropped from it, latching onto the Spaniard's coat. Clint smirked. Perfect.

Only then did he finally register his panicking teammates. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. The team had not been well put together. How on earth did these guys even get drafted as SHIELD agents? Or better yet, which idiot had even passed them?

Or perhaps he was just cynical from being captured for about a week. This sort of mission was nothing but a blip of annoyance on his radar.

Leaping gracefully from the rooftop down to the ground, Hawkeye hurried to where their team medic, Scotts, was attempting in vain to stop the death slowly seeping out of Fox.

"What happened?" he ordered. He had seniority. And he wanted answers.

"Fox was about to report that the target's were exiting when a smoke grenade was thrown by one of the unknowns Brodes saw earlier. It made Fox yell out and reveal his position just as the three were exiting. They saw him and shot him, while the unknowns called out, obviously for back up. They must have been Montoya's guards," answered C-Man.

"I thought they were drugged?" snapped Clint in question.

The group looked a little uncomfortable before Scotts replied, "It was Fox's duty to do that."

What was left unsaid was perhaps that Fox had betrayed them. Or perhaps he had simply been stupid and slipped the wrong drugs into the guards food and drink. Regardless, it had been a big mistake on his part that had sabotaged the mission. Clint sighed, knowing SHIELD wouldn't be happy until they brought Montoya in. He was too wanted by more than just one government.

"All right agents. Here's what we do. I'm running this circus now," he ordered, staring each member of the team down to make sure they were clear. "I'm tracking Montoya. We're gonna nail this SOB, but I'm calling the shots. No more stupid mistakes and bad info."

They nodded, showing their respect for him.

"Right. Well get moving. Scotts, get Fox's body. Have it arranged to be brought back to SHIELD. C-man, cover our tracks. The rest of you, split and call on all your training to get back to the hide out. Montoya's going to be more cautious now, and it's probably going to be another fortnight before we can get the hell out of here. So we need to make like smoke. And I can only say it again…_don't do anything stupid_," lectured Clint, crossing his arms to intentionally make himself look more intimidating to the younger agents. Thankfully, there was no argument.

He left, climbing back up and over the rooftops. With the grace of a panther, he gathered himself and jumped from roof to roof on his way back to the mission base. This was his domain, up high and soaring. It gave him space to think.

As much as he wanted to go back to New York, Clint knew he couldn't leave until the assignment was finished. Fury wouldn't be happy. He was on this mission for a reason, and Fox's death had just proved it.

A fortnight though.

Another two weeks of torturous dreams. Both of nightmares and fantasies.

Fantasies…they were self-explanatory.

The nightmares wouldn't let up. Some nights it'd be his time as Loki's hand puppet, other nights it would be of the blood of his partner on his hands, watching her death. And on other nights, it was faceless bodies reaching for him to pull him down into black mind manipulating mire, seeding doubt and causing him to question every decision he made, especially his most recent one.

Oh Natasha…

How he wanted to spar with her again, watching re-runs of TV shows just for kicks, tease each other about their lives. He missed the simplicity of their teamwork. But now he had a whole new dimension of her to miss. Her soft lips, the scent of her hair, the way she had looked in the midst of passion. Yes, there was much more to miss now.

Resolve set, Clint was determined to make it one more fortnight. Not another day more until he could see his partner again.

* * *

Steve was the first to get the alert. The message came from the chief of the New York police force, requesting some Avenger assistance to a crime scene on the outskirts of the city. He replied in the affirmative and went to go collect a few teammates. He sped down to the gym to find Natasha and Thor comparing knife-throwing techniques. Before he had Mjolnir, it was discovered that Thor had been primarily a sword and knife-bearer, making a point of commonality between he and the spy.

The pair looked up when Steve entered, his game face on.

"Police have requested our help at an underground bunker at a crime scene. They can't open the door, but they reported that there's something suspicious about it. It'll just be us three as Bruce and Tony are at a technology seminar," he announced, and paused for just a beat for them to nod before they all hurried out and parted ways to suit up.

Gone were the civilian clothes and in their place stood the sculpted, suited bodies of Thor, Captain America, and Black Widow.

Natasha was the first to finish getting ready and requested that JARVIS have a car ready to take them to the site. It was more discreet than she and Cap holding onto Thor for dear life while he flew above the city. She was satisfied, loaded with all her favourite weapons, and headed down to the garage. She let out a low whistle at the concept car that greeted them. Looks like Tony's been having some fun again. It looked like a cross between a Hummer and a BMW. Strength with grace, obviously designed to withstand those like Thor within it.

She leapt into it, flicking on the ignition just as her teammates entered.

"Let's go!" she called out, genuinely looking forward to getting out of the Tower for something other than helping Steve get a date for the past week. This would be the perfect outlet for her quietly building frustration.

Thor and Captain America got in, and she gunned the SUV out of the Tower and turned on the GPS, knowing that JARVIS would find the quickest way for them.

Half an hour later, they arrived outside of a dilapidated mansion surrounded by trees. If Natasha had been any lesser person, she would have been a little creeped out by the look of the place. Vines hung everywhere, the trees were dark and even seemed to hiding some deep dark secret by the way the branches created a shroud over the house. Police cars sprawled over the lawn and the police themselves were sticking together in a group, feeling the grim aura around the place.

The three left the car and headed over to the scene. On the surface of it, it seemed like there was no real reason for the Avengers to have any presence at all.

The chief saw them first and bustled over to them, acknowledging their short greetings.

"I know you have no clue what's up, but here's what we know. We found four bodies here in four different types of methods of execution. We can't find any evidence of a perpetrator, but the complicating factor is that one of the bodies is an international military consultant. We thought it'd be tactful to ask for your help. You would be sensitive to such a case," the chief explained.

If the situation weren't so serious, Natasha would laugh a bitter laugh. Sensitive? The Avengers? Hah! Did the chief not remember the semi-destruction of Manhattan?

She only allowed herself the tiniest of smirks outwardly.

Steve, ever the boy-scout, replied, "Of course. Just point us in the direction and we'll see if we can open up that bunker." The chief pointed to the back of the property, giving the directions. The three Avengers moved forward. Thor split from the group to look around the perimeter, to see if he could find any clues that the police didn't. Steve took point, striding directly to the bunker. Natasha frowned and hung back, her guns held firmly in her hands. Naive Steve. Simply trusting her to watch his back. She wouldn't ever give that kind of trust easily, and it amused her that Steve did the exact opposite.

The entrance to the bunker was sunken into the ground, concrete steps leading into it. It was a foreboding image. A scratched black metal door that seemed to be shrouded in shadows.

"You get that hinky feeling Widow?" Captain America asked casually as he went to the door, trying hard to ignore the shiver that crawled down his spine. It was the same feeling he had gotten when Johann Schmidt took off his facemask.

"If I believed in them," the redhead replied, turning in a slow circle, her eyes sharp for any threat. Leaves rustled, and shafts of sunlight bravely pierced the dark canopy of trees, only adding a haunting quality to their surrounds. If it wasn't for the bright red of Thor's cape in the corner of her eye and for the fact she was a SHIELD agent, she'd feel like she'd just stepped into the introduction of a horror film.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Seen too much shit to believe in it."

"True," replied Steve, giving up on the delicate ways of opening the door – picking the lock, trying the handle, trying to unscrew the stubborn hinges – and deciding to do what he did best.

Grabbing his shield, Captain America threw all of his strength into battering the door down. The first try didn't work, nor did the second, which prompted Natasha to ask, "Need a little help from gunpowder?"

"Nah. It always opens on the third time," Steve answered with a hint of a grin, rearing back and throwing himself into it once more.

And true to Steve's words, the door splintered open.

"Now, why couldn't the cops do that?" he mused aloud.

Natasha threw him a quick incredulous look. "Maybe because they didn't have a super soldier and a shield like yours."

"Point," conceded the Cap, peeking into the dimness of the bunker.

Pulling out a mini-maglite, Natasha slipped past her teammate and flicked it on, squinting into the dark. She took a step forward, towards the nearest shape she could see. It was a massive metal canister marked 'DANGEROUS.' Carefully stepping around it, Black Widow shone her flashlight all over it, hoping to pick out a distinguishable mark of some kind. When she got to an edge, she ducked a pole of some kind and finally saw something on the new surface. Shining her light on it, Natasha nearly dropped her flashlight in shock.

Steve heard the slight intake of breath that constituted Natasha's gasp and hurried over to her. When he saw the words on the container, he felt that uncomfortable feeling intensify.

"Stark Weapons Manufacturing…I thought Tony was done with that stuff?" he asked softly.

"He is. But this logo is legitimate. I've seen it too many times to know that there are little fail-safe's Tony puts into branding his products," Natasha replied, taking a step back and glimpsing the code that defined the product. If she was shocked before, it was nothing compared to what she felt right then and there.

"These were banned. Illegal decreed by Stark himself," she whispered, her fingers tracing over the code. "This was before Ironman…even then he knew things like this were atrocious."

"What _is_ it?"

"This canister is filled with missiles that carry darts filled with a compound – don't ask, I don't even know it – that cancel out brain activity. They interfere with our mind's neurotransmitters and leave a person in a vegetative state with no way to escape their fate." Breaking off, the redhead quickly moved around the bunker, taking caution not to touch anything. She kept seeing Stark merchandise that wasn't even meant to be in existence. Bullets that embedded themselves in a person and then exploded, mechanical torture devices, and many more things that had been the brain-child of Stark in his most vengeful moments.

"We need to leave," Black Widow announced and marched out, dragging Captain America with her as she hurried out. "We need to destroy this place. If Tony was here, he'd nuked it already. When Tony decides an invention is illegal, it's a big thing. We need total destruction."

"Thor?"

"Definitely. He's the only one that can really get close enough and still have a far enough range of attack with that hammer," replied the redhead, trying to get to the boundary line.

"Right, then here's what we do. _I'm_ going to get the cops out of here and let Thor know the plan. But I want you to go into that house and see if you can recognise the bodies." When Natasha stared at him, Steve explained, "I have a feeling this is more than a murder and a happening on these weapons. I think they're connected."

Natasha nodded, knowing it was plausible. "Fine. If I'm longer than five minutes, come looking for me."

They separated ways, and Natasha jogged into the ruined house, towards the scene. Unease finally made itself known. The house itself wasn't too decrepit, but the feel of it…yes, there was a reason all these men were spooked.

Entering the room, Natasha saw the body of the military consultant. She had seen him a few times in the helicarrier: John Zooker, native to Canada. He had been stabbed in the back. The other three men she recognised easily. Tsu Shinyu, one of the members of the China East Coast Triads, very interested in weapons trade. Boren Helf, from Poland with strong Russian ties, also weapons based. The FBI had been looking for him lately…she'd drop them a note. And Sean Gapher, a native American who had moved to Afghanistan to be more in tune with his political leanings. Also interested in weapons trade. Someone had killed them for the secret of the bunker, perhaps. Or perhaps, to keep it a secret.

She knew she had to report this to SHIELD. It looked liked Zooker had hidden caches of illegal Stark weapons to do some dealing.

Wrong move.

Curling an upper lip in disgust, Black Widow quickly took some photo's to back up her evidence and swiftly left the house. She wanted to see it all get destroyed.

Steve had evacuated everyone but himself. Natasha was almost touched at the look of concern on his face.

"All good?"

"If you call four dead bodies 'good,'" replied the redhead in a bland tone.

"You know what I mean," retorted Captain, crossing his arms.

"We're on the job," Natasha reminded tersely, grabbing one of her guns at her hip. The motion wasn't lost on Steve, who promptly dropped the matter.

The two retreated to a safe distance and watched as Thor, with a fierce warrior's bellow, flew up above the tree line and called down all the power of thunder and lightning with Mjolnir, accumulating it and then launching it at the opened bunker. It was beautiful destruction as the blue-white bolts crashed down to earth, filling the bunker and causing the contents to explode, rendered harmless by the might of the thunder god.

Thor sent two more down, hitting the house and sending it into flames, and then aiming at the weapons bunker once more.

Everything was aflame.

Destructive cleansing. At least, that's how Natasha saw it. Much like the obliteration of Dr. Venen's lab.

She could have only imagined what had happened if Ironman were here. It would have been overkill to say the least.

"Let's go," Captain said from beside her, gently tapping on her shoulder.

"I have to talk to Fury."

"Fine, but it's best if we leave before some media crew shows up and causes a new problem," he pointed out entreatingly. Natasha gave one more look to the burning wreckage and pushed past Steve, heading towards the SUV without a word. She was the job now. Personal crap and media crews didn't come into the equation. It made it unbalanced and messy. Silence reigned on the drive back to the Tower.

Without a word, the woman left her two male teammates to stare after her in confusion.

Getting into her apartment, Natasha immediately opened up her SHIELD issued holo tablet and put out a vid call to Fury. Sure enough, he answered.

"Romanoff. I thought you still have another four days away."

"I do sir, but I have pertinent information," informed the spy. At her boss's curt nod, she quickly briefed him on her findings, all the while transferring the photo information from the SD card and through the connection. When she was speaking, Fury's face was set and grave.

"Good work Agent, we'll look over your findings. Now if I'm not mistaken, you have some leave to get back to," Nick Fury replied bluntly, and then terminated the connection. Natasha wasn't offended though. She was used to Fury's short addresses. She carefully hid her evidence and ridded her Black Widow suit from her body, chucking it towards the laundry hamper. It was one of those few times she was truly glad to be in 'normal' clothes again.

She was just settling down with a book by Christopher Paolini (Ha, Clint, see? She did read more than war books), and a beer, when someone had the most annoying and impeccable timing to knock on her door.

"Come in!" she barked, letting her book flop closed. Guess the adventures of Eragon would have to wait.

Steve poked his head in, looking freshly washed, and asked, "Bad time?"

Natasha just let her eyes bore into him, causing him to throw a little smile her way and come in, taking his usual place at the far end of the couch. "Of course. No time is ever a good time with you," he teased lightly.

"Shut up."

"No can do."

"Evidently," Natasha drew out the syllables threateningly.

The dark blonde head shook with amusement before he got to the point. "Thor wants Thai for dinner tonight. Pepper left a menu out and now he wants to try it. That fine with you?"

"As long as I don't have to leave the Tower, yeah. I'm actually trying to get some reading in," replied Natasha, a little more warmth in her tone than before.

"Cool, cool. But what I really wanted to discuss was the dating thing," Steve said.

Ah, yes, the 'dating thing.' For Natasha it had been an education to say the least when it came to Steve meeting girls. They had tried a few things in the past week. One thing had been to go to a 'singles' event in Central Park. Natasha had thought it would give her the perfect opportunity to observe her friend in a more natural environment to him than a club. Steve was definitely interesting! He was either too nervous and stumbled over his words, or he was too perfect of a gentleman, pulling out the chairs of any woman who sat beside him so they could sit before he did, being polite, and trying to associate with what the woman was saying.

It was hard for him when they mentioned new music or a film and he had to pretend that he knew what someone was talking about. The more impatient women got tired of him quick. Others thought it sweet. Some thought he was a really buff Amish-type.

There was a very entertaining incident about halfway through the day where some blonde bimbo had practically thrust her boobs into Steve's face while saying 'hello' and touching his biceps admiringly.

Steve hadn't found it as funny as Natasha did.

The day had given the spy a lot to work with in terms of people reading skills. Steve _did_ get angry, and sometimes his frustration was evident. He was also stubborn (hence, why she let him into her apartment. It was easier than to find him following you everywhere until he got to talk). He had been more open to the women that had patiently explained things to him. So he needed someone with less aggression and more patience. Also, he needed someone assertive for when he was being stupid.

The clingy girlfriend type just wouldn't fit Captain America.

Natasha had also observed him at a beach, which had been their next destination. For a challenge, she had ordered him to whip off his shirt and to go jogging up and down the beach to see how much female attention he had gotten.

Needless to say, the day had been a waste when girls had practically attacked him to 'get to know him better.' To the point that Natasha had to step in, pretend to be his girlfriend, and drag him to safety from the prying claws of horny beach babes.

"What about it?" asked the redhead, tilting her head to the side in interest.

"Well, I liked the day in the park, except for the blonde moment. But I think we should avoid me topless."

Aw, look, Steve was blushing.

"Agreed. So?"

"So…what's next?" he asked back, leaning forward and saying earnestly, "I don't know Natasha. Sometimes I feel like I'm just not made for anyone in this time…"

And like that, a light bulb flicked on in the spy's head.

_In this time._

Steve was still hung up on Margret 'Peggy' Carter from his original time in the 40's.

And that was why perhaps women just weren't responding to him. Maybe they could tell that, in his mind, he was comparing them to a woman from his past. That he was, in a way, unavailable to them emotionally.

Look at that. Psychologist by day, dangerous spy by night, and Avenger the whole way through; Agent Natasha Romanoff!

"I think you're trying too hard," replied Natasha sincerely, letting their eyes connect. To show there was no lie in her gaze.

"You think?"

"I _know_ you are," Natasha said, raising an brow to give her teammate a look that said 'I know I'm right and there's nothing you can do about it.' "You shouldn't be trying so hard, and I think others can sense that. Let it flow. If you like someone, you like them. No need to force a connection if it isn't there. But you can't think about the past or the future. You can only think about that moment in time."

Comfortable silence fell as the redhead reached for her book and began to read while Steve was left to think.

"Yeah…yeah that's probably it," sighed Steve, raking a hand through his hair.

"Mmm-hmm. And Steve? Honestly, don't worry about it. If it happens, it happens," advised the woman, tilting her head towards the door in dismissal, already wrapped up in the plot of her book.

Steve sighed, patted Natasha's leg in a friendly manner, and left.

It was only when she faintly heard the door to Steve's apartment close did Natasha let the chuckles she'd been holding in escape. Look at her! Advising a guy from out of time on how to date when she hadn't ever even had what most people described as a 'relationship' with _anyone_. At least, not yet, if the hope she held for Clint was proved to be justified. But still, sounding so sage while knowing only based on observatory skills…well, it was ironic, funny, whatever. It made her laugh.

It was soothing to be happy. She had finally gone on a mission (of a sort) and hopefully Clint would be back soon.

Wait a sec. That triggered a thought. Clint…not having any protection…

A hand flying to her stomach, Natasha quickly counted the days and then sighed in relief. It was fine. Her period should be coming along in roughly four days. She felt that she was going to get it, and that all her pregnancy fears would be for nothing. But to be sure, she was going to wait before going back on the pill. However, Natasha was just a little ashamed of herself she had let the thought fade to the back of her mind. It was what she had been trained to do. Not for these kinds of circumstances though.

Knowing another distraction was in order, Natasha decided to call Fury back. She was going to find Peggy Carter.

* * *

**A/N: I hope this is exciting! I had a bit of trouble at the beginning with Clint's mission (Tango has been used as a code word for target), but I hope the rest came out okay. **

**Ooh…will Natasha find Peggy? Or will she find that the woman has been dead and gone for a while?**

**Please read and review. I love the reviews, and I enjoy hearing your thoughts. I cannot thank you all enough each time you leave a review for me.**

**Next chapter may take a while. Exams. Ew. :(**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **WOOT! **Keep up the great reviewing work guys! You all put in a great effort for last chapter! Thank you to all alerts, favourites too. In this chapter, how does Clint get the mission back on track? And does Steve finally receive some closure? Read, find out, and review guys!**

**Also, there's a bit in Clint's part of the fic that was inspired by jacdesbff's fic '**_**Internal Promises.' **_**Chapter three to be precise. It's a good fic that one!**

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings. Bit of swearing, some talking about sexual situations, talking about 'women's cycles.'

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. I also don't own Bryan Adams songs. Also borrowing that for artistic purposes. I also have very limited medical knowledge, so any mistakes are mine. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 13**

* * *

It had taken less than a week to get into Montoya's inner circle. True, he had become more wary after the failed attempt to shut him down, but even a man like Montoya knew that business did not stop because of one simple incident – a fact Hawkeye had exploited. It had been simple. Set up another situation where Montoya looked like he was about to have an unfortunate incident, only to have Gabriel Luschi push him out of the way of the oncoming vehicle. Gabriel Luschi was supposed to meet Montoya later in the day regardless, and so upon helping to avoid injury to the crime boss, Gabriel had immediately been accepted into the inner circle.

What Montoya didn't know was that Gabriel Luschi was merely one of Hawkeye's aliases.

After the first botched attempt on Montoya's life, Clint had put all of his and his motley crew's efforts into changing his appearance ever so slightly. His hair had been dyed darker, brown contacts had been put in, and a fake tan lotion helped to darken his skin. A special pouch was put into each of his clothes to add a fake paunch to his frame.

It was simple, and yet, not simple enough that Montoya would be suspicious from the beginning.

It was a Saturday night in Spain, hot and humid, making the indoor-outdoor clubs a popular place for people to be. One such club was owned by Montoya, the 'Sabre.' Gabriel Luschi was enjoying a tequila while listening to Miguel Montoya order for shipments of drugs to be sent to Miami, London, and Sao Paulo. Clint Barton wore the disguise perfectly, slouching back in his seat and grinning drunkenly at the drug lord.

Montoya finished the call and turned to Clint, speaking in rapid Spanish. "Ah, amigo, they do not offer enough. I need to increase protection now after those Americans tried to kill me."

Intentionally slurring his words a little, Clint replied in perfect Spanish, "Maybe a little murder attempt on them will see them understand, eh?"

The two men laughed as a young woman entered their private booth – a booth that, while still in the club, was open to the moist air through the use of netting – and sat demurely next to Montoya. Montoya greeted her with a smile and pulled her closer, turning to his new friend. "Gabriel, this is my beautiful Carmena. Carmena, this is Gabriel. A business partner who saved my life earlier this week."

"A pleasure," the dark skinned Latina murmured, reaching out to shake Clint's hand.

"It was nothing. That car was going just slow enough to give me time."

"And what good timing too," Montoya remarked, tipping his own glass of tequila in respect to the spy. "For I doubt I would be here today."

'_That's right…fall right into my trap,' _Clint thought to himself, before plastering on a fake smile. "God smiled down on me that day that I had the fortune to save your life. To preserve it for this lovely lady right here." He gestured to Carmena, who was now cuddled up to Montoya like a love-sick puppy. Clint wondered how on Earth a woman like that would fall for such a villain like Montoya. Montoya was more than a murderer, he was a dealer.

"Ah yes. The love of a woman is a very rare thing indeed," conceded the other man. There was a lull in the music at that point, and he pronounced, "Sing, Gabriel."

Clint was actually taken back by the sudden change in subject. "I'm sorry, what?" he asked, hoping Montoya wasn't _really_ asking him to sing.

Montoya leaned forward and placed his drink on the table between them, looking deathly serious. "I want to see you sing. I want you to play a song for my Carmena and I. I see the mark of a musician in your eyes Gabriel." When he saw 'Gabriel' look hesitant, his tone tightened and he went on, "And if you do not, our upcoming agreement for trade of cocaine will be affected negatively."

Clint swore inwardly. What Montoya said, you did, especially if you were of the inner circle.

"Of course sir…I meant no disrespect. I only have one favour I must ask," he said in a low, non-threatening tone, changing his body language to show submission to the crime lord. When Montoya raised an eyebrow, he continued, "I wish to sing an American song which I feel you will enjoy immensely."

"And if I do not?" Montoya asked sharply.

"Then there will be no obligation to business dealings, and you may take whatever monetary compensation from me as you wish," replied Clint easily, knowing that even if Montoya decided to take money from him, there was only one million in the dummy account he had set up for a situation such as this.

Montoya whispered in Carmena's ear, and she nodded, which seemed to win approval. Montoya nodded and rose, looking out at his club. He made a motion to the DJ and band set up, who saw it and hurried to move off the stage. Clint headed down to the stage, relieved that Montoya was letting him play an 'American song.' There were no songs he knew off by heart that were inherently Spanish, so what he had planned would have to do.

Grabbing the best acoustic guitar he could find on the stage, the archer leapt up onto the stage and looked out over the club goers, saying, "Under the request of the great man Montoya, I will play a love song from America for you tonight."

Clint sat, ignoring the uneasy silence in the room, and tuned the guitar, listening for the exact notes. Once satisfied, he strummed it, getting the feel of the strings, enjoying the bright sound. It made him miss his own instrument.

Clearing his throat, Clint took a moment to draw upon all of his confidence, all of his acting/spy skills for this.

And then with a deep breath, he began the first few soft, flamenco notes, opened his mouth, and let his voice convey everything into the song as he could.

_To really love a woman...  
To understand her - you gotta know her deep inside  
Hear every thought - see every dream  
N' give her wings - when she wants to fly  
Then when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms  
You know you really love a woman._

Clint didn't look at the audience, didn't look up at Montoya's booth. All there was, was him, the guitar, and the music he was producing.

_When you love a woman you tell her that she's really wanted.  
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one.  
Because she needs somebody to tell her that it's gonna last forever  
So tell me have you ever really…really really ever loved a woman?_

There were other songs he could have chosen. More 'romantic' songs. More sappy songs. But he felt this classic hit by Bryan Adams was talking about love in simple terms. It was sweet without being saccharine. Romantic without being ridiculous. It was, truthfully, one of his favourites. He could sing it well. It brought out the idealist in him, that he would one day love someone like that.

_To really love a woman  
Let her hold you - til ya know how she needs to be touched  
You've gotta breathe her - really taste her  
Til you can feel her in your blood  
N' when you can see your unborn children in her eyes  
You know you really love a woman._

Unborn children...shit, he hadn't heard anything from Natasha. Was she...? Because one of his dreams a few nights ago had been of a little girl with long, curly red hair and his grey eyes, laughing and running to him.

_When you love a woman you tell her that she's really wanted.  
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one.  
Because she needs somebody to tell her that you'll always be together.  
So tell me have you ever really…really really ever loved a woman?_

Clint finally darted a glance up to see couples on the dance floor dancing with each other, swaying along to the beat. Well, at least they were enjoying themselves.

He, on the other hand, was silently wrestling with his feelings.

_You got to give her some faith - hold her tight  
A little tenderness - gotta treat her right  
She will be there for you, takin' good care of you  
Ya really gotta love your woman..._

Natasha wasn't like normal women, just like he wasn't a normal man. He was sure they could make it work, but he just wasn't certain if he could really love her the way she deserved. He had been messed up. His other relationships just hadn't fit into his life. They had left him vulnerable and exposed – traits he never wanted to unwillingly display ever again.

_Then when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms  
You know you really love a woman._

Helpless. Love made you helpless. Clint knew that all too well, but especially now. He _had_ been helpless when he had finally lost control of his desire. He understood why government bodies such as SHIELD, heck, any organisation that was training agents, spies, and assassins frowned on emotions such as love. It was a strong force that – once found in its entirety – swallowed you and swept you away for the ride. A ride he wanted to willingly chance with a redhead by his side, job as a SHIELD agent be damned. He had gone through, sacrificed too much not to be selfish just this once. After Loki, after Coulson's death and his own screwed up head after that…he deserved this.

_When you love a woman you tell her that she's really wanted.  
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one.  
Because she needs somebody to tell her that it's gonna last forever  
So tell me have you ever really…really really ever loved a woman?_

Because the simple fact was he trusted Natasha not to do to him what others had. He had never felt such a strong pull to another person before. Never felt this song to be as applicable as it was right now. It had been one of the reasons he had spared her life.

Damn. He just couldn't stop thinking about her.

_Just __tell me have you ever really…really really ever loved a woman?_

_Just tell me have you ever really…really really ever loved a woman?_

But truth be told, he didn't _want_ to stop thinking about her.

His introspection ended with thunderous applause.

The world came back to Clint then, and he finally looked up to see all the patrons of the club turned towards him, smiling and clapping. That was all well and good, but the real test would be Montoya. Carefully, respectfully, he looked up to see Montoya hugging his girlfriend closer with a big grin on his face. Montoya nodded, and it told Clint he was still in.

The mission part of his brain took over.

Perfect. If anything, this song had cemented Montoya's willingness to trust him.

Hopefully, this mission would be over soon because of it.

* * *

"I can't believe you actually baked him a cake."

"What else could I do?"

"I'm sorry' usually works."

"I tried! So, I decided to do something out of left field. But hey, it got Tony to actually forgive me for being such an idiot on the helicarrier," said Steve.

"True," Natasha replied, "but now he keeps bugging you for more cake."

Steve sighed, "Yeah. But that's okay, really. It's just annoying because last time I made it for him, he forgot I left it on his garage bench for him to eat after he was finished working in that red Ferrari of his."

Natasha couldn't help but snort at that. Trust Tony to forget about food.

"You still haven't told me…where are we going again?" asked Steve, looking out the passenger side window of the black car Natasha was currently driving towards outer New York.

Giving her teammate a side look from behind her glasses, she replied, "Don't think you can fool me into telling you. As I told you before, it's a surprise. It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, would it?"

"Yeah, but why?"

The redhead was quiet for a few moments. Yes, why was she doing a favour for him? Steve had been his usual self lately. Not really doing anything really spectacular for her or giving her any amazing opportunity of any kind. What it really came down to, she guessed, was that she liked Steve and was feeling particularly charitable towards him this week. Especially with her best friend/partner/future lover? gone. "Because you've been great company in the past two and a half weeks," she finally answered.

Steve grinned. "Yeah, well, that's what friends are for."

The rest of the drive was accomplished in a comfortable silence, broken only by Steve when he saw a sign beside the road, half-hidden by trees. "Westchester? What's in Westchester?" he asked curiously.

"Apart from the mutants?" Natasha asked dryly.

"Mutants? Oh, you mean Professor Xavier and his school. Is that my surprise?"

"No," replied Natasha sharply. "I'm not revealing anything. Just shut up and enjoy the suspense."

The blonde promptly shut his mouth and curbed his prying questions, just in case he woke up tonight with a dead snake in his bed or something equally as nasty. Natasha had told him about a few revenge stories in which she didn't actually have to harm anyone, and the snake story had been one of them.

They turned down a side road and into a lush estate. It was such a contrast to inner city New York it almost had Steve's eyes bugging out of his head. There were so many trees and other plants, enhancing the simplicity of the colonial style houses along the road. A majority were white, but some were in other light shades of blue, peach, and lemon. The road wound further into the estate, and he noticed that houses were spaced out wider now. Steve was very surprised when Natasha turned the car around the bend in the road, to see a house completely different to the others in the estate.

It was a grand single storey house, but that wasn't what made it unique. It was the colouring. Made of bright red brick with white trim and blue shutters around each wide window. It was somewhat patriotic, and it was beautiful. It looked homey.

"Whoa," he murmured, stepping out of the car when Natasha parked it in front of the house.

"Steve," Natasha said in a warning tone, waiting until he turned to face her. "Before we go in, I have to tell you that this'll be a big shock for you. You have to be very careful with the lady we are visiting today."

Steve searched the redheads face for any clue as to who was inside, but he found nothing. Natasha was too good at hiding her emotions.

"Okay," he replied.

They moved to the door, and before Steve could knock, it opened to reveal a middle aged lady beaming at them. "Hello! You must be Steve and Natasha," she greeted excitedly, shaking both of their hands. "I'm Amy, her carer. Oh do come in, she's excited for your visit. She rarely gets anyone these days, but that Nick Fury person wishes to see her safe you know. That, and well, she just doesn't have anyone else, poor lamb."

At the mention of Fury, Steve stood straighter and tensed. Something was going on, but he couldn't tell for good or evil.

Natasha merely smiled graciously and stepped into the house, taking a moment to admire the taste of the person who lived in it. There were framed pictures on the walls, of a young woman with her parents, that same woman in her army uniform, and then, as she aged, with a man and then children. It was a timeline of this woman's life. She stopped in front of one at the very end, and instead of it being one of an older woman, it was the young woman in her prime at the army, with Captain America by her side.

When Natasha heard Steve's gasp, she looked at him, only to see him reach out to a portrait of a woman with big brown eyes, perfectly curled dark brown hair, and red lips.

"Peggy," he breathed.

Amy looked confused. "I thought you knew you were coming to see her?"

Steve shook his head, still in complete and utter shock, and looked to Natasha who smirked at him.

"Surprise," she said.

"You…you did this for me?" Steve asked with a hitch in his voice, looking so lost and yet so joyous that the Russian couldn't begrudge him the sentimentality.

"Yes. I knew how much she meant to you. I thought this would bring closure," replied Natasha quietly.

Amy sensed that the young man would probably tackle that woman in gratitude, so instead she laid a hand upon his arm and guided him away from the pictures. "Well, Natasha called a few days ago and asked if Peggy was up to visitors. You know, for 93 years old, Peggy Carter is still a sprightly woman! She was so excited to know you were coming to see her that she got up out of bed and baked apple pie for us and the children a few houses away," Amy nattered on. "She does have some health problems, but she still has a fantastic memory. She does have a bit of arthritis and at night she doesn't sleep as well, but on the whole, she's great."

The carer guided them through the hallway and through a simple, pretty blue kitchen, and then exited into the patio. It was there that Steve and Natasha finally saw Peggy Carter. She was wearing a pastel yellow sundress, sitting at an intricately carved table which held tea and sandwiches. She saw them as well and a brilliant smile crossed her old face.

"Steve," she greeted.

Steve almost dropped to the floor because of the sheer overwhelming emotions that had risen up in him. Peggy had aged well. Her eyes were still that beautiful chocolate brown, even if she had gained many crows lines and other wrinkles around them. Her lips had thinned, and her teeth were no longer pearly white, but it was still a smile he recognised. Her hair was very much the same style she had it in all those years ago, only it was a dazzling white. As she stood and opened her arms wide, he noted that she stooped a little, and had gained a bit of weight and other features of older age, but he didn't care. There was still the same Peggy he had known when she was younger.

"Peggy," he said happily, going to her and taking her in his arms, feeling her tighten hers around his neck. She was not as strong as she used to be, but that was expected.

In the same voice as she had when she was younger (if only a little more reedy), Peggy smiled and said, "You're late."

Steve clutched her tighter and replied, "Well, better late than never, right?"

He pulled back to see tears brimming in Peggy's eyes. When her face blurred, he realised that he was close to crying as well. And he hadn't cried in a long time. He whipped around to Natasha, who looked content and was smiling at him.

"Thank you Nat. I mean it. I really do," he breathed, voice hitching with gratitude.

"Don't cry on me," Natasha said. "You can thank me later. You and Peggy are going to spend the whole day together, and Happy is going to pick you up when you're done. I have some errands to run. Enjoy yourselves." When the two looked ready to protest, Natasha moved forward and took one of Peggy's hands in hers. "I need you both to have this time. I worked hard to get the information on your location. I don't want either of you to waste that work. This is about you two, not me."

Peggy squeezed back on the redheads hand. "Thank you, Agent Romanoff. I wish you well."

With a final nod, Natasha left.

Steve guided Peggy back down to her chair and sat opposite her, still reeling. "I still can't believe you're here…that you're alive."

A wry smile crossed the elder woman's face. "It'll take more than old age to keep me down. If Nazi's couldn't do it, than old age won't." They chuckled at that before Peggy gestured to the garden. "This keeps my days occupied. Because I know so much, I am kept safe here. Amy used to be a SHIELD agent before she became a carer."

"Wow."

Peggy laughed at Steve's expressions. "Your shock still ongoing?"

"You have no idea," he replied, a tear finally falling from his eye, which he stubbornly wiped away. "I've missed you so much. When I woke up-"

"Shh," hushed Peggy softly, taking his hand in her own. "I know. Fury told me your first words. I know Steve, I know. But we must move on. Like I did." Old she may be, but Peggy saw why exactly Natasha had brought Steve here. Closure was a big part of moving on. Like holding a funeral for Steve Rogers had helped her move on when she was younger. "May I tell you about my life?"

"Please. Tell me everything. Teach me," Steve pleaded quietly, relief and elation filling him.

And so she did. Peggy told him about the funeral they held in his memory, about the end of the war, how she had met Major William Hanaway a year after. She had fallen in love with him and they decided to get married, only with Peggy keeping her last name. They had three children, two girls and a boy, and from them she had seven grandchildren. They laughed together as she told him the stories about her children, and then her grandchildren's antics. She told him how the times changed, how technology moved from strength to strength. Steve told her more about the battle of Manhattan, and about his teammates. Peggy listened with interest, seeing as she had only seen news reports about it.

They finished their lunch and walked through the garden, Steve supporting his old friend.

"What about you, Steve? Found anyone yet?" Peggy asked at last as they sat on a shaded bench.

Blushing a little, he said, "Well, I still don't know how to talk to women…"

"Obviously," Peggy teased back.

"Well, Tony tried to get me out in the dating scene, but he took me out to clubs which I didn't like. So I asked Natasha for help."

"And?"

"I don't know. She took me to better places than Tony. Like the beach, to an event in the park. But I don't know, I feel no connection to anyone," explained Steve shyly.

Peggy's eyes softened. "Maybe you just need this."

Carefully, she leaned forward and placed the lightest peck on his lips.

Steve allowed her lips to linger, and he felt wetness on his cheeks from a few more tears, both his and hers.

She had been right. That had been just what he needed. It was not a kiss of romance, not exactly, but a kiss of a blessing given. It was permission. In that kiss, he saw why he had been holding himself back. He had felt guilty over leaving Peggy without a chance for them to get together. He felt he owed her. Now she had absolved him of all guilt.

They parted, and Steve gathered up his long lost love and held her tightly. They didn't speak, but they didn't have to. That kiss had been enough.

* * *

Natasha left the beautiful warm house and slid into the car. Only then did her mask fall and she exhaled heavily. Truth be told, the drive here had been a distraction. Technically, she was back on at SHIELD, but Fury hadn't summoned her. That was fine. It was something else that was unsettling her.

Her period was meant to come three days ago.

She knew that, because she had missed a few pills, that her cycle may be irregular, but the sight of no blood recently unnerved her. She was now really worried that she was pregnant, because it was so unlike her to be irregular. Starting the car, she left the estate and sped to the nearest city out of New York. She flicked a button under the wheel which changed the license plate on the car, just in case, and she retrieved a blonde wig from her bag and placed it on her head, making sure no red was peeking out. Sunglasses and black lipstick completed the look. All she had to do was add the leopard print coat in the back seat.

She stopped at a random chemist, anxiety wriggling around in her gut, but she made sure not to let it show.

Natasha headed into the chemist, discreetly making her way to the pregnancy kits. When she got there, her eyes widened behind her sunglasses. Which one should she choose? There were so many. Darting a look around, it seemed like one of the salespeople was going to come over and help her, so she grabbed a random two kits and headed to the register to pay. Thankfully, no one made a comment about her purchases, and she hurried out to the car, throwing the tests into the back seat as if they burned her hands.

"Come on Romanoff. It's just a few tests," she muttered to herself.

Arriving back to the tower after the long drive, she had wiped away her disguise, and hid the pregnancy kits in the wig in her bag. She greeted JARVIS, keeping her voice casual, and headed to her apartment.

There were no distinct thoughts in her head. Only emotions. Curiosity, fear, and worry were key.

Entering her room, she got the kits out and compared them. They looked the same to her really. Pee on a stick, and it should tell you if you've got a little one in there. Her hands shook as she took the tests out and read the instructions carefully. Taking a deep breath, Natasha headed to the bathroom to carry out the tests.

Leaving them in the basin, Natasha went to the fridge and got out a bottle of water, chugging it down and then scowling when she finished. Her worry was making her weak.

It was a serious matter though. Could she be blamed, really?

Forcing herself not to think of past or future, she focused on the present. She hoped that Steve would come back to the Tower a new man. That this visit would do good for him. Today especially since Tony and Thor were having some bonding time doing bowling, and Bruce was chilling out in the lab.

Time was up. Time to see if she had a little hawk making its nest.

Natasha scowled again. That had been one of the worst puns she had ever made.

Almost like it was some lion about to attack her, the redhead cautiously moved towards the basin, hoping the results were showing.

She saw the first one.

Negative.

Relief.

But then the second stick came into view, showing two perfect pink lines instead of one, like the other stick.

Positive.

…what the hell?

Natasha picked them up, her mouth dropping open as she looked from one test to the other. What the heck did this mean? Was she pregnant or not? Fuckin' tests! Angrily, she turned and kicked the towel stand over and growled. She did not feel like going out to a pharmacy for another kit.

Mulling over her options, Natasha remembered that Tony had a mechanism that he was testing for other labs in seeing if a woman was pregnant. Apparently it could detect it earlier than most other tests and took less time than other blood tests. Now, if she could find it without anyone knowing, she might be able to give the test to herself and find out conclusively if she was pregnant.

Moving out into the living room, she saw only way to find out if Stark still owned the tech.

"JARVIS?" Natasha asked to the ceiling.

"Yes, Ms. Romanoff?" asked the AI politely.

"Can you please keep what I request next a secret from everyone?"

There was a bit of hesitation before JARVIS replied, "To the best of my ability."

"Good," said Natasha, knowing she would have to be content with that answer. "Do you know if Tony still has that equipment he was improving for the women's hospital? The blood work one."

"Yes. It is in lab 2A on the twentieth floor. There is currently no one on that floor so complete privacy is optimum as of this moment," replied the robotic system.

Natasha nodded, collected her tests and her courage, and headed down there, mentally prepping herself. This was more of a mind manipulation that some tortures! The uncertainty, the unpreparedness for any result was horrible. Exiting the elevator, she quietly crept to lab 2A and pushed open the door. Looking around, she wished JARVIS had been a little more specific about which piece of equipment the machine was. There were so many.

"Ms. Romanoff-" JARVIS began to say.

"Shh, I'm thinking," hissed the redhead, disregarding the AI.

Natasha was about to move towards the big machine in the back when the reason for JARVIS's warning came apparent.

Bruce Banner walked into the room loudly, his nose buried in some medical paper, and barged right into Natasha.

Caught off guard, the spy fell over, dropping her tests in the process. Panic flew across her face as they landed, lines up, and she hoped he hadn't seen them. "Shit."

Bruce realised what he had done and placed the paper to the side, hurriedly offering his apologies. "God Natasha, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? I was so distracted that I-" he broke off as he reached for the redhead to help her up and saw the two tests. Being trained in the medical field, Bruce recognised them instantly. He stiffened and murmured, "Oh my god."

Natahsa's face went red with humiliation and anger, cursing softly in Russian. No one was supposed to know!

Bruce helped up his reluctant teammate regardless of the fire of her glare. "Natasha," he prompted gently, placing his hands on her shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "What is going on?"

"Well, I was _trying_ to get a more conclusive result. I heard Tony has some equipment…" she trailed off, unable to look the scientist in the eyes.

Bruce looked over to the tests and saw the differing results. Uncertain, he asked, "I know how to use the machine. Do you want me to help you?"

"Please."

Bruce saw the defensiveness in all of her body language and decided to be a little more supportive. "It's okay, you know, if you are pregnant." When Natasha finally looked up at him, her eyes rarely unguarded and showing her anxiousness, he went on, "It's not the end of the world. It just means you might have to accommodate someone else in your life."

"And in my line of work, that's a problem," reminded the redhead as Bruce led her over to one of the smaller machines and sat her down in front of it. He reached for her arm and swabbed it, making the area clean for the needle to draw blood.

"You've never let a simple thing stop you before," Bruce said softly, treading vague waters with this conversation. Heck, he was freaking out _for_ Natasha, internally, knowing how hard it would have to be for her. Carefully, he inserted a needle into the right vein and drew out what he needed. He placed them in specialised tubes that would be inserted into the machine, which would process the blood to see if there were cells which indicated a woman's pregnancy. "So who's the father if you are?"

Natasha hesitated before whispering, "Clint."

Bruce almost dropped the tube he was inserting into the machine.

"How? He's been on a mission for the past two and a half weeks, and before that-"

"It was on the mission we were captured in," Natasha broke in, not looking at Bruce as she quickly filled him in on the real purpose of the mission, the pheromones, and how they were not allowed any protection. She didn't tell him how it happened, it just happened.

"I know this is going to sound awkward, but why not consider oral or anal to avoid this kind of thing?" the scientist asked, finishing with putting the samples in the machine and starting it on the cycle.

Natasha shrugged, avoiding Bruce's eyes. "Oral wasn't an option. I did jerk him off, but he still needed more. As for anal…I have a strong distaste for it. Clint knew that, so full intercourse was the only option. And we weren't really thinking coherently."

Bruce nodded, but placed a hand back onto the woman's shoulder. "For the record, if you are pregnant, I'll be your doctor if you want for privacy's sake. In India, I helped with pregnancies that were particularly difficult. So yeah. If you want."

"Thanks Bruce. I'm glad you're not freaking out," replied Natasha, subdued.

"Hey," he tipped her head up, "Clint's a good guy. I'm not worried about him looking after you, he does that anyway. Besides, I know what it's like to want to keep things a secret so no one looks at you like you're a freak."

Natasha was glad for the understanding. If it had been Steve, he probably would have treated her like fragile glass. Tony would have been shocked before teasing her about having sex with Clint. Thor probably would insist of having a big feast to mark the occasion. There was always some occasion that the thunder god insisted was worth having a feast for.

"Now, all I have to do is wait."

"Why don't you go up and rest? It'll take a few hours before the tests are done," suggested the scientist.

Natasha nodded, managing to keep it together as she headed back up to her apartment. Once inside her secure haven, she dropped to the floor, overwhelmed by the turn of events. She hadn't wanted any of her team to know. It was dangerous information. She didn't cry, but let out a low cry of frustration. She wanted to know! She hated waiting for something as odious as a blood test to come back.

She longed for her partner. He would know what to do. They knew each other so well he would know _exactly_ what she needed right now. Clint had the magic touch when it came to settling her.

Dragging herself to her bedroom, Natasha flopped on the soft surface and forced her mind to shut down so she could sleep. Instead of waiting aimlessly, she would sleep her worry off.

She could only hope the test was done when she woke.

* * *

**A/N: LONGEST CHAPTER EVER! Wow. I did about 1000 words a night in between study so I could do another chapter for you all. I hope you enjoyed it. I enjoyed writing each scene. **

**Exams start tomorrow! I'd love to see reviews which will bolster me up for it. *hint hint* **

**But really, thank you for all reviews you have or will submit to this fic. Your support keeps me going. Especially in uncertain times. **

**I am being a bit of an evil tease, but think of it…well, like good sex. When you get to that climax, it'll just be THAT good. So in next chapter, we'll definitely know if Natasha is preggers or not. **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/n: PLEASE READ BEFORE GOING ON TO FIC. **I have made my decision on whether Natasha is pregnant or not. Some of you will be thrilled, some of you may not, depending on what you thought you would see. There are _**VERY**_ good reasons for my decisions that are **essential** to my plot. So if it wasn't what you were hoping for…then I apologise you feel that way, but not for my decisions.

**On a brighter note (well, 2 actually) 1) I GOT AO3! So if decides that I'm evil, I'm going to set up camp there instead. And 2) I can CONFIRM Clint will be reunited with Natasha in the next chapter, chapter 15.**

**Once again, I'm thrilled and filled with gratitude at the AMAZING amount of reviews this week (WE REACHED OVER 400!). Thank you for taking the time and effort to let me know you are enjoying each chapter. It **_**does **_**mean a lot to me.**

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. I also have limited medical knowledge, so any mistakes are fine. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 14**

* * *

There was a tap on her shoulder.

Now, a normal person would have shrugged it off and sleepily mumbled for 'five more minutes.' Not Natasha Romanoff. Sensing an unknown threat, the redhead snapped her eyes open, leaped, and lashed out with her hands in one smooth movement. Hands caught her flailing limbs and tried to hold her still, which made her struggle all the more.

"Natasha!"

Oh. It was Bruce.

Immediately, she ceased trying to fight him and glared. "I thought you smarter than that, Banner."

"I called your name from the doorway. JARVIS let me in. It didn't work so I thought if I poked you…" explained Bruce, making sure to keep himself controlled. There was a faint green tinge to his skin that showed that Natasha's sudden attack was testing the limits of his control over 'the other guy.' The spy saw it, and although she didn't apologise, she helped him off the floor so they could sit on her bed. She had glimpsed the paper on the floor and kept her muscles relaxed as not to betray the sudden apprehension she felt at knowing the tests were done.

"How long did it take?" Natasha asked to fill the silence.

"A few hours. Tony's made the operating system more accurate and faster," replied the scientist, picking the paper up, his eyes conveying no humour as he flicked over the result he had checked to make sure was accurate.

Natasha just stared at him, and it was after a few minutes that Bruce realised she was waiting for him to read out the result. "What, you just want me to blurt it out?" he asked.

"Yes."

Bruce's lips quirked up in a smirk before seriousness replaced it. "Natasha, the results are conclusive. There's no trace of the hormone to indicate conception. You are not pregnant."

Natasha didn't know what she was going to feel until the words fell upon her ears. She didn't notice as Bruce left, seeing her expression. There was relief. Definitely relief. But the emotion was almost unreachable, behind the thick fuzz of numbness that took over her psyche. There was a sudden dampening in a tiny, blocked off corner in her heart. Cursing herself for such nonsense, Natasha acknowledged the numbness, hoping it would help her sort out her other emotions swimming beneath.

Relief was most prevalent, almost drowning in it's intensity. Even if she wasn't a spy, at this point in her life, she just wasn't ready for such a responsibility. Personally, a baby would be too much. She was honest enough to admit that she was selfish. She wanted other things more than a kid underfoot. She wouldn't be selfless enough to take care of a life dependant on her.

But if she knew this with all concrete belief, why was that little nugget of disappointment that the test had been negative?

It was a raw disappointment.

It was…difficult to classify. Natasha _knew_ she was relieved. Just like she _knew_ this disappointment shouldn't be here. But it was. And she had to deal with it. Why was the question. Why was she disappointed?

'_Perhaps,'_ whispered a little rational voice of reason, '_if you were pregnant you would know Clint would like it – he always wanted a kid one day. He would stay if you had been.'_

She snorted in disbelief. Yeah. Right. Not true.

So why did she feel wetness on her cheeks?

Shaking hands reached up to her face, catching the rarely shed teardrops, clear and warm on her skin. Staring at them, Natasha realised just how much she had bottled up. Not just recently, but her whole life. The stresses of the past few weeks had just added to such a heavy cross to bear. She had never felt the need or desire to cry. Her body was rebelling against her now as it decided to emotionally collapse under mounting pressure.

So many repressed emotions broke free from the chains in her heart, hitting her with so much force that more tears rebelliously slipped from her eyes. With a quiet sob, Natasha resigned herself to letting them fall. She cried for the first time for her blackened history. For the lives that she had stolen. For the lives she would steal in her course of work. She cried for the fact she thought she was too broken to be what people thought was normal. She cried for the fact she was like an unsolvable puzzle, not knowing if relief or disappointment won out.

And she cried for Clint, missing him so much her head and heart ached.

"Fucking mission," she cursed, angrily wiping away tears, gathering her control. If this length of time separated from her partner told her anything was that she didn't realise just how much she had needed him. Although they had been separated when he was in New Mexico and she was in Europe, there was less emotional investment. She had still missed him terribly then. Now, she was emotionally attached. No denial applicable here.

Deciding there was only one way to get her out of the funk she was in, Natasha staggered upright and went to her closet, digging around in the back corner for that old box…ah yes, there it was.

A bottle of Elit by Stolichnaya Vodka from that St. Petersburg kidnap rescue mission a few years ago.

Uncapping it, Natasha took the first swallow, making a low, throaty sound at the pure taste of it. Better than most, it would be a shame to waste it by letting it sit in her closet for most of her life, right? Sipping at it, she leaned against the wall, staring at the bottle and resolving to get herself tough again. It had happened. Now she was moving on. Moving forward. Because if she didn't move forward, she'd be trapped in the past.

After a few more harsh gulps of Vodka and more mental pep-talk, Natasha heard a cautious knock on the door. Not Bruce. He would've knocked faster. Tony wouldn't even have knocked. Steve only ever did three in a row, not four. Thor's knocks were just a few steps short of bringing the door down. That left only one other person.

Walking to the door (in a fairly straight line if she did say so herself), Natasha opened it and asked, "Who sent you?"

Pepper Potts saw the other woman's face and answered, "Bruce. He said maybe I should go provide some support. Whatever that means."

"Yeah well, at least you can keep a secret. If Fury trusts you with a few international secrets he would have deported other people for, I guess you can come in," Natasha reasoned, feeling the effects of the vodka on her empty stomach.

Pepper softly shut the door behind her, but glancing at the woman who had, clearly by the amount in the bottle, already polished off half a bottle of vodka. She looked like a woman who needed some 'me' time by the look of it.

"There are no other easier ways that to get drunk than by straight vodka," Natasha said, sprawling over her couch while the other woman took the armchair.

"True. You look like you're going to beat Tony's record for fastest way to get drunk," quipped Pepper with a wry smile.

Natasha let out a little giggle at that, and then passed the bottle to her companion. "Drink," she ordered, "it's good stuff."

Complying, Pepper took a swig, relaxing more as she realised that whatever was upsetting the crimson-haired woman, at least no one was dead. At least, that's what she hoped. But she was curious as to why _Bruce_ of all people, knew what was up with the secretive spy. But she didn't pry. At the rate Natasha was going, she was going to spill the beans after another swallow of liquid courage.

The redhead looked pensive as she stared absently to a spot to the left of the other woman. "Out of curiosity…do you ever wonder about this team?"

"The Avengers? About what exactly?" Pepper asked slowly, trying to see where this conversation was leading.

"Just…about our team. About how…" she paused, frowning, before continuing. "You know, we're so effed. The Avengers, I mean," Natasha murmured, grabbing the bottle firmly in her hands as she spoke. "Look at us. Tony and Thor have massive family issues that make for excellent Shakespearian-esque melodrama, Bruce is self-explanatory, Captain America, while a nice guy, is so far out of time it's like he's in Timbuktu, and then Clint and me. Clint was orphaned at a young age and ran away to the circus and became an archer, but his family issues are almost as good as Thor's. Me? Hell, I can't even remember my parents. Became an assassin/emotionless shell, went through some pretty fucked up things." The spy paused in her spiel, letting a bitter bark of laughter at the stunned expression on Pepper's face.

"Well, I-" the other woman began to answer before her eyes narrowed, and she halted. She wasn't stupid. She hadn't been Tony's secretary for so many years not to notice when someone was avoiding an issue. "What are you getting at Agent Romanoff?"

The use of her title as agent had Natasha smirking. "Getting at?"

"Yes," replied Pepper, her voice steely. She didn't have time for spy mind games.

Natasha was quiet for a few moments, and then decided to just throw it out there. Just to see the reaction from the usually composed business director. With a little hiccup betraying her drunken state, she shrugged and finally answered in a low tone. "What I'm getting at is I'm screwed up. I thought I was pregnant, and I wasn't. And while I'm relieved…I'm a little disappointed too."

In that moment, you could've knocked Virginia Potts over with a feather.

"Say that again," she whispered.

Natasha threw her a sad smile and replied, "You heard me. I thought I was pregnant. Isn't that funny?"

Getting her wits about her, Pepper pushed away the shock (honestly, she had been around Tony for too long to be shocked by too much anymore) and bantered in an attempt to liven the mood, "Well, if it's any consolation, I don't think the world is ready for a mini-you. Tony would run and hide."

The redhead breathed a laugh and shook her head in amazement. She had blurted out her secret and she didn't feel bad about it. Amazing! Maybe she should keep talking. Pepper was discreet enough that she wouldn't go and blare it from the rooftops. Plus, the strawberry blonde was to be admired for putting up with Tony's shit for as long as she did, waiting for him to come around.

"Hey Pep…do you ever think you and Tony will have kids?" she asked. She didn't notice the slight slur to her words.

The question caught the other woman off guard. Well, if it was confession time, she might as well. "We've never discussed," Pepper answered quietly. "But…I think I would like one. Maybe two if everything goes well. I don't want to detract from the company or anything else. I just don't think we have the time right now." Seeing her audience was listening intently, she continued, "I think Tony would be a good father because he wouldn't want to make the same mistakes his own father did. But the kid would probably be spoiled rotten with all the toys Tony would want to invent."

Finishing off the rest of the vodka, Natasha nodded. "Yeah, that'd be right." She then giggled again. "Oh my god. I'm talking about kids and babies like a normal person. What's wrong with me?"

Pepper heard the bitter tinge in that tone and realised that she was a poor substitute for the person that should be here right now. The person she suspected would've been the possible father. She obliged in helping her friend back to her bed, where she lay, staring at the ceiling with a vague expression. "Do you have any more alcohol in here?"

"Noooo. Only that one," mumbled Natasha exhaustedly.

Pepper couldn't blame her. She felt a new amity towards the spy. You couldn't talk about troubles like that and not commiserate. She felt a little closer to the redhead now, after seeing more human emotion out of her. Today had obviously been an emotionally wrecking day, and she could understand the need to just lay still and let the world keep turning. "All right. I'll save you some dinner when you've slept off this alcohol," she informed, laying a blanket over the younger woman in a kindly gesture.

She turned to leave when Natasha mumbled, "Hey Pepper? Thanks. I think I needed to rant a bit."

"Your secret is safe with me," she replied.

Pepper had just left Natasha's apartment when a very excited Tony came running up to her. Seeing his expression, she stood in his way, arms akimbo, and stared him down. She had a feeling she knew _exactly_ why he was here right now, and so soon after her talk with Natasha.

"Pep, is it true?" the genius asked, bouncing up and down on his heels like a little boy.

"Is what true?" she avoided the question, a sinking feeling as he confirmed why he had shown up.

"Don't play games. Did our little resident have a little egg in the web? Or in this case…nest?" Tony bantered back with a big grin, fully intending to push past his lover and go and give a little teasing to the redhead in the apartment.

"Tony," Pepper said in her sternest tone. She didn't budge from her spot as she asked, "How did _you_ find out?"

"Saw the pregnancy test sheet in Bruce's hands when he came back into the lab."

"So then, you didn't see that the test was, in fact, negative?" questioned Pepper harshly. There were a few things she thought should avoid Tony's teasing and jokes. Pregnancy was one. Natasha in general was another. So she could be understood for being a little protective of the spy at the moment. Men wouldn't be able to fully understand the complexities of a woman's emotional state when it came to such a thing as pregnancy. And from that strange event of Natasha actually opening up to her she had just witnessed, Pepper understood the spy was feeling things were out of her control.

Tony's levity quickly dampened and rare sincerity showed. "Negative?"

"Yeah."

"Oh…well, I would have fucked that one up royally if you hadn't stopped me," he said. Even he had enough tact to realise that his teasing would have been in the poorest taste.

Nodding, Pepper rested a hand on his arm and guided him towards the elevator. "How much did Bruce tell you?"

Sheepishly, Tony replied, "Well, I kinda didn't give him the time to explain. I was outta that lab like a rocket."

Refraining from the tempting urge to smack her boyfriend upside the head, she explained, "From what I could gather, Clint would've been the baby daddy. But I haven't seen a change in those two recently. They've been the same as ever. Granted, they're spies, but usually there's something that'll give someone away."

Realisation dawned on Tony at Pepper's words, and like his genius mind was apt to do, he connected the dots. "Something _did_ change. After that mission in Argentina. There was something different about them. It must have been then they did the deed…in that crappy room I found them in…" he trailed off in memory and a tiny smirk wound its way onto his visage. "So _that's_ why her face was red when I came into the room."

Pepper rolled her eyes. Trust Tony to remember a little detail like that. "Regardless…_don't_ say anything to her. I mean it. I like you in one piece Tony."

When the usually chatty man stayed silent, the strawberry blonde turned to read his expression, paling when she saw it. Oh no. Tony had already done something – there was that little guilty look that he got when he ate a whole tub of Ben and Jerry's as a midnight snack. "Tony," Pepper said warningly, wordlessly demanding him to admit what he had done, and admit it fast.

"I didn't mean it!" he protested with a frown. "It just so happened that Thor and Steve were with me when I went to go see Bruce in the lab…and they might have heard me shout 'Natasha's pregnant?' but- OW!"

Tony yelped as Pepper finally slapped him in the shoulder, her eyes turning dark and stormy. The same dark and stormy colour they had been that day in her office with the strawberries. Shit.

"Nice work! Natasha's not going to like this when she finds out," Pepper scolded, entering the elevator and pressing the button down for the labs, praying that the other three were still there so she could get some sense into their heads in Natasha's stead while she was sleeping. Tony followed in silence, knowing if he said anything, he would probably be sleeping on the couch tonight.

When they reached the lab, Pepper was relieved that Steve and Thor hadn't decided to go gallivanting off like Tony did. Instead, Bruce was trying to patiently answer their questions. Hearing the couple approach, Thor turned and asked, "Is what Bruce saying the truth? Is the fair Natasha not going to bear a child?"

She could understand the confusion that he and Steve probably had. To hear Tony and then Bruce saying conflicting things would have gotten the less tech savvy members of the Avengers puzzled. "No. She's not. She wasn't sure, but the test Bruce did made it certain. Natasha isn't pregnant."

There was a beat of silence before Thor sighed and said, "It is a pity indeed. I would have enjoyed holding a feast in celebration of a new life!"

Everyone chuckled at the thunder god's statement. Thor loved his feasts.

Steve looked around and asked, "So…what do we want to do about this?"

"Nothing at all," Pepper said immediately.

"Yeah sure, like Point Break and Capsicle will be able to keep it a secret that we know what Robin Hood and the not-so-maidenly Maid Marian got up to," Tony pointed out.

"I can keep a secret!" argued Steve.

"Yeah, around people you don't know, When it's around us, because you trust us, your body language says it all. Natasha will know you're treating her different, even if you don't mean to," Tony replied just as heatedly. Steve glared at him before nodding his head in defeat on that point. He owed too much to the spy to lie to her.

Thor spoke up next. "But…why must we hide that we know the truth? We are her comrades, are we not? Surely we must show our support of her, even if she chooses not to accept it."

The others looked at each other, considering.

"Natasha is unpredictable. We don't know how she'll react, and it's pointless to even speculate on it," Bruce finally said slowly, as if trying out the words for the first time.

"And as a fallback, we can just blame it all on Tony," said Steve, smirking to let everyone know he was teasing.

Tony grumbled at that, and Pepper felt a little of the tension relax. Hoping the men would do the right thing, she said, "I've just talked to her. I think if you're going to let Natasha know that you all know…you have to be delicate about it. Don't crowd her . I don't want to see you all go to see her with the best intentions only to be blasted back because you've handled it badly."

"Define badly," said Steve blandly.

"As in don't tease, don't even try to sympathise – you all know she'll hate being pitied – and don't be completely unfeeling," Pepper rattled off. "Empathise, but don't overdo it. If you're going to do the whole harmonious team thing where 'we support you,' you have to be honest about it without overdoing it." Looking around at each man to make sure they got the point, Pepper turned to Steve and advised, "You've become good friends with her recently Steve. You probably have the best chance of breaking it to her that the secret is out within the team."

Steve winced. "Yes we have, but as Bruce said, Nat's kinda unpredictable."

With a frosty smile, Pepper replied, "Well, that's your problem boys. I have a dinner upstairs going cold with my name on it."

She walked off. As she did so, Tony mumbled, "That went well."

"Natasha's going to flip," Steve groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Well if _someone_ had announced himself before walking in," Bruce grumbled pointedly, his eyes darting from Tony to the ground.

"Accidental, and irrelevant right now. What's relevant is that we know Natasha took a test, it's negative, and Clint's away doing SHIELD's dirty work. The key here is to do some team bonding and at the same time, let our lovely Black Widow see that we're here for her without doing the whole Hallmark card spiel," Tony said, laying his opinion out there.

Thor had looked pensive as he heard his teammates talk. He had thought of something, and hoped the others would agree it would help strengthen their team bonds.

"Perhaps," he rumbled softly, "an activity to boost our team spirit? On Asguard we have ceremonial games in which we compete in friendly tournaments to help emphasise our strengths and also to draw the fabric of what makes us Asguardians closer." He paused after his suggestion, seeing that Bruce, Tony, and Steve were intrigued. Seeing as there were no objections, he asked, "Perhaps there is some sort of Midguardian game as such which Natasha may enjoy with us?"

The three humans got together and discussed their options. They brought up different sports and activities, from horse-riding to basketball to rappelling down the side of Stark tower. All suggestions were discarded, until Tony got a sudden bolt of inspiration and grinned. "I got it. It's the perfect thing. It's so perfect that-"

"Tony, get on with it," Bruce interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"Killjoy. You and Steve should start a club," the billionaire huffed.

"Stark!" they all shouted in exasperation.

Tony crossed his arms, smiled widely, and said, "Paintball."

* * *

Natasha woke to the appetising smell of spaghetti bolognaise. Her stomach growled rebelliously to pull her out of slumber, and with a grunt, she sat up, wondering who had entered her apartment _now_. Having Bruce in here unexpectedly was one time too many. Whoever was out there better have a good reason for just coming in while she was sleeping.

Making sure she was presentable, Natasha moved into her living area to see Steve holding a bowl of hot, steaming pasta.

While the smell of the food initially drew her attention, it was her friend's body language that completely stole it. As nonchalant as he was trying to look, he was failing. The spy in her could tell that he was nervous and in that nervousness was fear. Fear? That was unusual. Steve hadn't feared her ever since the battle of Manhattan. When the man looked up at her, and saw her piercing gaze, he smiled without mirth and asked, "I have to spit it out, right?"

Natasha silently nodded, taking the bowl of food from him, beginning to eat. If she was going to hear news that had her sending him out, then she was at least going to get dinner out of it.

Steve stammered before finding his voice. "Don't be mad…please. It was a complete accident."

"What was?"

Ouch. Her voice was too calm. Steve felt like a pansy. He had faced Red Skull with only the faintest quiver of fear in his gut, but facing down this slender woman had him near shaking in his boots. Then again, Red Skull had nothing on Natasha's resourcefulness and intelligence. Or her capacity for unpredictability. Telling himself to man up, he explained, "Tony accidently saw the pregnancy test sheet that Bruce did for you and Thor and I heard him say it." He looked up, seeing Natasha's face pale slightly and her eyes flash with fury. He almost sent a prayer up to his maker at the look.

"Oh?" Natasha was proud of herself not for going nuts. The whole point of all the secrecy she had to go through – the wigs and clothing – was so this precise scenario didn't happen.

"Yeah. So basically the whole team knows that you're not pregnant. And we got together and we basically wanted to let you know that, well, we're here for you. If you want to spar, say the word. Anything at all. I mean, we were a little shocked, but Pepper helped to see it in a different perspective." Steve fidgeted under the intense scrutiny the spy currently had him under. He hoped he wasn't screwing this up. "And while we were talking, we discussed going out and doing something together as a team. To take your mind off it or whatever."

Natasha admired Steve just a little more than she did because he was the one who had the balls to actually come here and admit they knew a secret about her. She couldn't imagine Tony doing it without her wanting to maim him. Thor would…yeah, overbearing. Bruce would be too subtle. Steve's honesty was the right path to take. Hiding the slightly warm feeling she got from the fact that her fellow Avengers cared enough about her, she arched an eyebrow and asked in a measured tone, "What would be this 'something?'"

"Tony said paintball," replied the blonde.

Natasha let a fiendish grin twist her lips upwards at that knowledge. She took back the angry feelings. She was glad they had found out her secret now, just so she could give them a lesson in 'why you should never annoy the Black Widow.' "Perfect."

* * *

Four hours later, Natasha laughed freely as she looked at the carnage she had wreaked upon her teammates.

Tony had used his status to secure one of the best paintball indoor arenas in New York, and within an hour of Natasha accepting the paintball activity as a worthy apology, they were on the grounds, suiting up and preparing for the game.

It had taken all of Tony, Bruce, and Natasha to explain the game to Thor and Steve. Steve got it quicker than Thor, who had interpreted the paintballs as some sort of magical colourful bullet. Still, it was amusing to Natasha to see a Norse god dressed in paintball protective gear inspecting the paintball gun from every angle. Bruce had been reluctant, saying he might have to sit out if the 'other guy' saw this as more than a game.

Tony had bragged about his skills in the lead up to their session, making the redhead smile in anticipation. She didn't remember a time when her shooting skills were used for fun, but she knew that her teammates were in for a reality check on just how good she was, emotional turmoil drama or not.

And then the game had begun…

Pepper came up to the group as Natasha was in the midst of her fits of laughter, getting in a laugh of her own and whipping out a camera. "So I guess it's safe to guess that Natasha won then?" she asked the men innocently.

As she took a picture, Tony whined, "This is so not fair. Adding humiliation to insult."

Natasha raised her paintball gun and aimed it. "Would you like more insult to balance that out?"

"I'm all good!" he said hastily, holding his paint-splotched arms up in surrender.

"You were the one with this idea in the first place Tony!" Bruce chided teasingly.

"Shut it Banner!"

Natasha 's grin didn't fade. What a sight they made! Bruce was the least covered, seeing as he had to sit out when he noticed a green tinge to his skin, but he was still impressively covered on his torso and arms. Steve had come very close to Bruce, because he had utilised every bit of training from the war in avoiding a vengeful Russian. He had a spectacular burst of pink from where a paintball had been carefully aimed at a gap in the protective gear at the neck. He was also dotted everywhere else with big gobs of paint.

Thor had been pretty covered, but the real reason for that was that he had been having too much fun in playing the game, running around, and getting everyone else that he hadn't paid too much attention to many paintballs coming his way.

Tony though…he was practically drenched in the paint, and he didn't look happy about it. Several had burst on his helmet, the paint trickling through cracks to cover his face. There was not one part of the uniform that hadn't been covered in paint from the many shots Natasha had aimed. Vengeance had been very sweet for her when the game ended and she had come out with not one speck of paint on her. Serves Stark right for being nosy.

The spy had to admit that this trip had been good for her. It refreshed her perspective. Made her feel more in control of her life, made her feel content. Not to mention she appreciated the gesture from the guys – men who at times had the emotional range of a teaspoon.

"So boys, what have we learned?" Natasha asked, waving the gun at them teasingly.

"Never to get you mad," they replied in unison.

"That's right."

And then she laughed again, just because it felt so good.

* * *

**A/N 1: **As always, let me know if you enjoyed the chapter! I so enjoy my reviews/reviewers. I know a lot of you really wanted to see Natasha pregnant, but that's not the way I want my plot to go, and like Natasha said, I honestly don't think her character is emotionally ready for that right now. HOWEVER this doesn't rule out a kid in the future ;D

**A/N2: **I must also apologise for the long wait. Exams killed me, but it's all good now. Should be more normal posting from now on.

**AND GUESS WHAT? BlackHawk reunion next chapter!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Here's the chapter you've all been waiting for! **The reunion**! As always, thank you all so much for the amount of reviewing you all do. It makes me glow! Thank you for taking the time and effort to let me know you are enjoying each chapter. It _does _mean a lot to me.

Also, to clarify on the Ao3 front, I have an account there, but I'm not cross-posting JUST yet. When this is finished, then I'll cross post the whole thing.

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings plus **SMUT.** Don't like? Don't read.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse. I also have limited medical knowledge, so any mistakes are fine. **

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 15**

* * *

It had been an interesting past few days.

Honestly, she had expected the rest of the team to treat her different.

It seemed like the paintball session had helped the guys get their heads straight.

Natasha smiled at her reflection as she finished with her lipstick. It had been a hard day. Fury had called her and let her know that there had been another cache of illegal Stark weapons in Trenton, New Jersey, not too far from the city of New York. Glad to be in action once more, she, Tony, and Steve had suited up and gone to investigate the weapons and look for clues as to who had escaped from the first scene of the Stark weapons hoard. While there had been no indication of who exactly had hidden the weapons, the three of them had taken immense pleasure in obliterating the illegal weapons until they were only atoms.

Ironman had done most of the damage, but it was understandable. Those were _his_ weapons someone had stolen.

To celebrate, and to introduce Thor to a bit more human culture, Tony decided that they were all going out for pizza tonight. Even Bruce, who had been reluctant to leave the sanctity of the tower. Natasha actually found herself looking forward to going out. She hadn't been out lately, so she was about due.

Leaving the apartment, the redhead noticed Steve ahead of her, about to head down. Taking in his attire, she shook her head. Steve had on his usual plaid shirt and jeans with that brown leather jacket. Complete American boy. "Hey Cap," she called out.

Her friend saw her and grinned. "Hey! You excited?"

Natasha shrugged. "Sure. But Stark won't be when he sees you in plaid again."

Steve huffed and mumbled, "Who is he? The fashion police?"

"Yeah, well, he seems to think so," Natasha replied, grabbing his arm and steering him back towards his apartment. "Come on. I'm sure there's something in here that you won't mind wearing that's not plaid."

"That's nice of you."

"It's actually selfish. I really don't feel like listening to Tony whining about your clothing choices when we should be getting a move on. I'm hungry," replied the lithe woman as she expertly overrode the lock on Steve's door, and pushed him inside before making a beeline for his wardrobe. She walked in, eyes widening. Okay, she got that Steve liked plaid, but ten shirts with the only difference between them being colour was a bit much. Shoving those aside, she looked past the jeans and work-out clothes, hoping that there was something else.

Ah ha. There we go, that light blue t-shirt he had worn that day in the park for the singles meet. Many women had complimented that it had matched his eyes. Perfect. She took it off the hangar and threw it at Steve with a pointed look to let him know if he didn't put it on, she was going to do it, and there was no guarantee she would be gentle. He obeyed with a sigh, knowing he couldn't argue his way out of this one.

A few minutes later, they were heading down to the garage with the other Avengers and Pepper, Tony chatting about the pizza place they were heading to. It was called Riva's, and according to Tony, had the hottest pizza in New York, with habinero chili's, jalapenos, pepperoni, and ghost peppers. Natasha smirked. Might be a pizza worth trying, just to see if she could handle it.

Thor was like a little child, excited and smiling broadly.

It was a curious trait that everyone had gotten used to. Thor enjoyed learning more about Earth and it's customs, and did so with gusto. As fearsome as he was in battle, he was so youthful in his exuberance through discovery.

Like her, Bruce was quiet and simply listened to the events going on. He was surprisingly relaxed.

When they arrived at the place, Natasha's mouth began to water at the wonderful smells emitting from Riva's. Never had a pizza parlour smelled so fragrant. The rich tomato based sauce they used on the pizza bases must have been filled with basil, as well as tomatoes. It reminded her of a basil plantation she had once run through in Italy to escape from some mafia goons. It was a beautiful smell, and Natasha felt her feet take her in, following the rest of the group.

They had been seated in a lowly lit back corner, Tony explaining that he knew the owner and so hopefully they wouldn't be bothered back here.

Looking at the menu in front of her, Natasha was floored at the amount of options there were. While she was tempted to get the 'Hells Gate' chilli pizza, the 'Aromatica' was looking like a better option, with mushrooms, fresh basil, tomato, cheese, eggplant, and a blend of oregano and rosemary sprinkled over the top. Decision made, and curiosity peaked, she asked, "I know what I'm having. What about you all?"

Pepper had gone for a plain pepperoni pizza, while Tony, in true Tony fashion, had gone for the Hells Gate. Bruce had gone for the 'Cheesaholic', a pizza with the tomato base, parmesan cheese, cheddar cheese, blue cheese, brie, bocconcini, and fetta. Steve had gone for a Hawaiian, and Thor, unable to decide, just decided to get a pizza with the lot.

A waitress came and took their order for the pizzas and drinks, although when she had been talking to Thor and Steve, she had blushed and dropped her pen.

Natasha rolled her eyes. Typical move of a woman looking to get a man's attention in such a juvenile way.

Once she was gone, Thor asked, "So, these pizzas, are they a type of cake? For I have heard they are made with dough."

"Not exactly," Bruce said, "They're made with dough, but it's more of a bread than a cake. Although people do refer to pizza's as 'pie.' No idea why though."

"Thor, as long as it's delicious, who cares what it is?" Tony interjected with his usual smirk.

"He's just wants to know, Tony," Steve put his two cents in.

"Internet has all the answers," retorted the billionaire.

"Computers are useless. They can only give you answers," Natasha said quietly. The comment, although softly spoken, got the attention of everyone else at the table. She looked around and said defensively, "What? That was Pablo Picasso, not me."

Tony smelled a debate and went after it. "Oh really? Apart from experience, tell me why else they're useless, Romanoff."

And then the talk evolved into a debate about the usefulness of computers. It went from there to gaming systems. Halfway through Tony's explanation of the awesomeness of Xbox 360, the food arrived, prompting the conversations to break off as each person dived for their own pizza.

Natasha took the first bite and shut her eyes as the flavours exploded in her mouth. Mmm, yum. This had to be one of the best pizzas she had ever had. The sauce was so nice, and the toppings weren't too packed on or too sparse. The ingredients were a good blend, leaving the spy immensely satisfied with her choice. When she went for the second slice, she took a moment to observe the rest of the group. Pepper, like her, was silently enjoying her pizza. Bruce…she stifled a grin at how the cheese was oozing everywhere and he greedily gobbled it up in a manner endearingly contrary to his quiet, bookish ways. Steve was enjoying it, but not with the zest of Tony and Thor. Tony's cheeks were red from the amount of chilli on the pizza, but he soldiered on, attacking each slice like he had attacked the illegal weapons today. She had taken a bite when he had offered, proud that she had kept herself from choking at the mouth-burning spices. Thor was chowing down, making loud noises of appreciation as he chewed. He was already on his fourth slice! But between big bites of dough, meat, and vegetables, there was a smile on his face.

Shaking her head in amusement, Natasha went for the next piece. It was good to just feel like she belonged, here, in this moment.

Soon, Thor had finished his pizza, lifted the dish it had been presented on, and held it up. "Another!" he proclaimed, and before anyone could stop him, he dropped it to the ground.

The table burst into laughter as the waitresses jumped at the crash. Pepper discreetly called one over, slipping a fifty dollar note into her hand and ordering another 'lot' pizza for the hungry thunder god.

It was an hour later they left, full and sated. Steve had suggested they walk back to the Tower in order to enjoy the wonderful night.

Natasha agreed. It was a nice night. Except for the thunderclouds rapidly making their way to cover the brightness of the stars. Realistically, she knew that she would reach the Tower before the rain hit, but there was something about the speed of the movement of the clouds that gave her a feeling of unease.

The unease made her pause for a moment.

Everything had been fine in the pizza place. It made no sense now for her sixth sense to kick in.

Resolving to keep her senses alert, the spy moved ahead with the group, standing between Steve and Bruce as they talked about the pizzas they had just eaten. When they slung an arm each over her shoulders, she surprisingly welcomed the contact – team bonding and all that – but the feeling of unease unexpectedly grew. She felt like she was being watched. She didn't feel threatened, but it was unnerving all the same.

Natasha lost herself in the group chatter, making the appropriate agreeing or disagreeing noises when the time came for it.

When they reached the tower, she bade good night to her company and went on ahead, feeling the strangest pull towards Clint's apartment. She missed him even more after friendly encounters with the rest of the Avengers. It had been over three weeks. Surely Fury wouldn't put him on a mission that would take more than a month. She hoped.

As she reached his floor, the soft sound of falling rain reached her ears. Ha. She _knew_ it was going to rain.

Keying in the code, she entered Clint's apartment, gasping when she caught the faintest whiff of his scent that had lingered on the belongings. Ignoring the loft-like bedroom and the living area, she moved to open the sliding door to the balcony. It had been the real reason why Clint had been offered this apartment especially. It made up half the floor, and half of the balcony was covered to provide respite from the elements. The comfy daybed and collections of knick-knacks was a sure indication that this was really Clint's nest. It was organised clutter. It suited him.

Natasha dropped her purse on the daybed and stepped out from the cover of the veranda, welcoming the rain.

She found rain soothing. It was one of her techniques for calming her adrenaline rush if it happened to be pouring outside at the time. The fat drops of water soared through their air, soaking her skin and clothing completely within minutes, but she didn't care. It made her feel so alive.

A tear of loneliness tricked down Natasha's cheek to mix with the rain. God, how she missed him! How she ached for him to be there by her side, enjoying the downpour as it washed away her barriers. Exposed and wonderfully raw was how rain made her feel.

It was in the rain where some of her greatest epiphanies had occurred.

And tonight was no different.

The lights of the city around her were muted from the water falling through the sky, and the fuzzy surroundings put her own thoughts and feelings into clear perspective, all the puzzle pieces fitting and making sense.

She had been moping around, feeling things she thought she had never feel, because she was in love with him.

Natasha Romanoff was in love with Clint Barton.

And while the idea partly scared her that she had opened up to such an emotion, another part was thrilled. She wasn't completely screwed up if she loved, was she? It made sense now. Why she had been a little disappointed about not having Clint's baby. Why her everyday activities just didn't seem as appealing as they had been. Because her heart was aching.

A light laugh was ejected into the air.

She loved. It was a victory. She was in love.

Unlikely, but it was happening.

She couldn't have picked a better man for her to love, really. For those he truly trusted, Clint was fiercely loyal to. He was a protector, a carer – evidence of how he had chosen to save her life instead of end it. And what was best of all was that he cared about her. They were partners. He understood what her life was like because he was such a big part of it and knew what it entailed. Beneath the exterior of a sharp-shooter in both wit and ability was the intense passion of a man who made sure that he was still in contact with his humanity.

Just as she was going to ponder further on her revelation, the slightest sound captured her attention. She whipped around, her keen eyes searching for the root of the sound.

Another soft sound, the sound of a boot scraping against the tile of the balcony. She could feel an intense gaze upon her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a shape materialised in the heavy downpour. Natasha felt her heart leap in hope.

"Clint?" she breathed, stepping towards the man walking towards her.

In the rain, she could see the outline of his profile, and hear the soft rumble of his voice. "Yes Tasha. I'm back."

"How long have you been out here?"

"For the past half an hour. I saw you return."

There was such a swell of emotion that rose up it was difficult to quell it. She moved to him so they were close. Almost touching, but an invisible barrier of caution just in case. Natasha could see his eyes, the usually light grey-blue dark with swirling emotions. She opened her mouth to say something no doubt whimsical, but instead came out with, "So, the mission?"

There was a upward tilt to his lips that told the redhead that she had just amused him, but he answered nonetheless.

"Over and done with. My debriefing has been done, and Fury said I get a weeks reprieve from SHIELD. I don't have to worry about anything work related. Target was eliminated two nights ago. Didn't even have to waste an arrow on him," Clint replied. He could see it in her eyes, she wasn't really asking about the job because she wanted to know, but because she was hesitant. He had been away from his partner for over two weeks. Screw hesitancy. "I'm fine. Not even a scratch."

"Good," Natasha whispered, stuck as to where to go from here.

Clint made the first move, a hand reaching out to cup her rain dampened cheek. "I missed you Nat. How've you been holding up?"

Natasha exhaled upon the soft caress. It made her skin tingle in the best ways. She didn't miss the direction Clint's eyes darted when he asked her how she was. He made a point of looking down at her stomach. "I've been okay. A little raw, but okay," she admitted. "You know how I bottle up how I feel. But I got a test done about a week ago. I'm not pregnant, just so you know."

The archer blew out a breath of relief. While he would have welcomed a kid if it had happened, he preferred that fate had worked out this way. He wanted to figure 'this' out first.

"How do you feel about that?" he asked quietly.

Shrugging, she leaned into his hand in reply, hoping he would understand the non-verbal response. He did, and he brought his arms around her to hold her close, soaking up her presence, marvelling at how much he had missed it, missed _her. _The familiarity of her frame moulded to his was too much, and the urge to ravish her mouth with his own was at its highest. Instead of just springing it on her, Clint said, "You know, what I said just before I left…I want to try. Do you still want to go forward? Being more than friends."

Natasha's green eyes searched his, and her lips parted in answer, knowing that this was the real moment of truth. "More than anything. When you're here, I feel…like I don't need anything else."

"Good," Clint replied, giving her a quick grin and cupping her face in his hands, pressing his lips against hers. Her skin was cool from the rain slicking their bodies, but her mouth was warm, inviting, addicting. He ignored the rain as he pressed for more, wanting more, slanting his lips across Natasha's in a wordless entreaty. With a sound akin to a purr, she allowed entrance, and soon the kiss, which had been one of assurance, relief, affirmation, turned hot, wild, and passionate. Natasha's hands moved to clutch at his shoulders, craving more contact, surprised at much she needed to _feel_ him, feel that this was real. It was almost dreamlike as they continued their liplock in the rain.

"Beautiful," her partner rasped as they came up for air for a brief second.

The redhead would've rolled her eyes if not for the searing heat of Clint's lips back where they belonged on her lips once more. Only Clint would call her beautiful when she must have looked like a drowned rat.

The air may have been cold, but their bodies began to heat from the passion unleashed.

Wandering hands grasped for the zip of the vest that Clint wore, tugging it down to reveal the sculpted chest beneath. Just as Natasha's fingers began to dance across the muscled expanse, Clint pulled away, his eyes dark with longing and arousal, but conflicted with the want to do the right thing. "Nat…stop," he whispered hoarsely.

"Don't tell me to stop," she argued back, craning her head down to nip and suck at the join of neck and shoulder. She bit down when he tried to move away. She wasn't having any of it. The fire within had be stoked to a frenzy, and she needed Clint. Needed him in every way he would allow. When he emitted a strangled moan, she smirked, gently laving her tongue over the bite mark. His resistance weakened, and he tried one last protest. "As much as I want to do this, we still haven't sorted out most of our issues, and I don't want to jump the gun on this-"

"Clint," Natasha interrupted with fire in her eyes. She held his head firmly in between her palms, "Last time I checked, the first time we had sex it was in a prison cell, and we've waited over three weeks for this moment. I think it's a bit too late to consider we might be jumping the gun."

The archer searched her expression for certainty, and then, finding it, abruptly grasped her lush backside in his hands and lifted her, causing her to wrap her legs around his waist, inadvertently pressing their cores together. The redhead moaned at the heat of their connection and arched, grinding her hips over his.

"Natasha," Clint rumbled, desire overtaking him at the way Natasha was opening up to him, her posture telling him she was inviting him to take her, make her his once again.

"Want you," she mumbled, clinging to him desperately, meaning the words whole heartedly.

"Don't know if I can make it to my bed," her partner warned.

"That can be second round. I need you, in me, now. That's an order, soldier," Natasha purred, rubbing against him again.

Hissing through his teeth, Clint walked them over to the daybed, thankful he had the insight to get one, and tossed Natasha's purse off it before dropping her wet, limber form on it. He took a moment to stare down at her, finally able to fully see her without the rain drowning her figure. She was splayed, risen up on her elbows, waiting for him with her lips parted invitingly. God, he had dreamed of this sort of reunion so much. Lust clouded his mind as he ripped his vest off before reaching for her own clothing, desperate for that skin on skin contact. Her clothes and his became a wet puddle next to the daybed, and soon they were bare. Clint had settled over her, not making any other move than to feel the silken body melded to his. His mouth had taken hers once more, plundering it while his hands stroked over her décolletage and breasts, thumbing over the perked nipples to warm them.

"Uuhn," Natasha moaned spreading her legs wider so her lover could fit between them easier, and feeling something hot and throbbing against her thigh. Her hands threaded through Clint's wet hair and caressed every part of him that she could reach as he lavished attention on her in return.

Calloused digits made their way to the redhead's tidy southern curls, threading through them before stroking across the wet slit further south. Natasha shuddered, anticipation coiling through her gut as the fingers softly explored her outer folds. "Ooh," she whimpered as her clit was brushed, and Clint whispered in her ear, "You about ready to take me?"

"Yeah."

"Control?"

"Period came and went, so I decided to switch to a shot, so we're good to go bare," replied Natasha to the incomplete question. She had taken precautions for another pregnancy scare.

Clint blew warm air over his lover's ear, glowing in male satisfaction as she squirmed under him, knowing it would solicit such a reaction. He was hard and ready, and while he had intended to be a little more romantic on their next time, he couldn't help but feel like this suited them. Free with each other against a backdrop of pouring rain. When his partner reached for him, bucking up insistently against his groin, he dropped down, kissing her deeply, interjecting as much feeling as he could while positioning himself at her entrance.

"MMmm!"

Laughing into Natasha's mouth at her impatience, Clint slowly inched his hips forward, feeling the head of his cock get swallowed up by welcoming slick warmth.

It felt so cliché to think it, but _this_ right here felt so good, so right.

"Tasha," he groaned, sheathing himself fully and pressing his frame tighter to hers. Her mouth was on his neck again, adding more hickeys to the one she gave him earlier.

"Oh Clint," Natasha moaned huskily, arching into him, feeling him fill her completely, the soft noises of him moving within her adding to the eroticism of this. One of her hands was planted on the back of his neck while the other anchored her to Clint's waist. When he had entered her, he had confirmed her earlier thoughts. He was the only man to make her feel like this. Even under him as she was, pinned by the delicious weight of his toned and muscled body, she felt free, able to fly. She felt on fire from head to toe, melting the coolness of her skin.

Clint breathed heavily, his control snapping upon hearing his name moaned in so enticing a manner, and his hips rocked forward sharply, drawing a abrupt gasp from his lover's kiss-swollen lips. He drew back and did it again, setting up a fast pace, seeking a swift release with Natasha.

The red haired head flopped back onto the soft cushioned surface under her as Clint went to town, pounding against her in the best of ways. She met his motions completely, surging up and rolling down in rhythm with Clint's firm, sure strokes, feeling her inner walls clench and ripple around that thick length. Damn, he felt amazing, and she breathed it in his ear, prompting a low growl from him.

"Say I'm yours," he demanded, rising up to look into her eyes, never ceasing his movements. He was slamming against her g-spot each time, he knew, because her legs would quake every so often. She was fiercely vulnerable for him alone, and it turned him on even further.

"C-clint-"

"Please. Say it. Because I'm yours Tasha," Clint admitted, reaching to caress her cheek gently while the other hand drifted toward her sweet spot and teasingly brushed across it.

"Fuck!" Natasha swore, almost feeling her climax then.

"Not the right…words," the archer panted, feeling his balls tighten. He wanted to hear those words before he came.

Lifting her head so they were nose to nose, the spy growled, "I'm yours. Now, _move_!"

Grunting with the effort, Clint drove into his lover harder, pinching the sensitive bud of nerves between his fingers, launching Natasha into a raw orgasm, crying out his name into the night air, writhing from the pleasure flooding every sense. Clint made the effort to watch her whole release before succumbing to the hot pleasure of his own, filling her with the evidence of his release as he bellowed out his own cry. After, his muscles twitched from aftershocks and he inhaled the sweet scent of freshly-fucked Natasha.

He heard her say something in Russian as she raked her nails up and down his back in contentment.

"Mmm, that was so _good_," she mumbled, caught up in the afterglow. It was like all the pressures of the world melted away.

"Has to be the best welcome home I've ever had," murmured Clint, grinning at her while she chuckled and snuggled closer.

"Round two?" Natasha asked, unable to hide the hope in her voice. Hey, she was entitled to being greedy. Making love to Clint was so mind-blowing.

Pulling out of her gently, her partner gave her an appraising look. "Not sore? I was going pretty hard."

"Not at all. I just want more of you," replied the redhead, blushing a little at the intense gaze raking over her body. He nodded and got up, and before she could protest, Clint had scooped her up in his arms.

He smiled at her again and said, "Well I can cross having sex on my balcony off the bucket list."

Natasha's eyes darkened as she thought of what else he could have on that list. But that was for another night. She simply wanted to feel intimately connected to him once more. Now, before this, the native Russian had enjoyed sex, but never craved it. It was something to do when bored or simply needing to relieve tension, or even using her sex appeal as a tool in missions. Not like this. Not this all consuming need for Clint to be touching her and making her feel free once more. And she couldn't stop touching him in turn. Kissing over the cords of his neck, licking the salt from his sweat away from his shoulders, running her fingertips over his nipples…

"Tasha," Clint groaned, glad when he got up to the bed space, placing her on it so he could look her over.

Her hair was wild and mussed, eyes were wide and trusting, chest heaving with deep breaths, and he could see the dampness at the apex of her thighs that had him standing at attention again, drawing a deeply appreciative glance from the woman on the bed.

"I want to ride you," Natasha stated boldly, staring into Clint's eyes. She wanted the control this time. It was only fair.

Clint felt his length twitch at her throaty demand, and he lay next to his lover, pausing to give her a kiss and palm those perfect breasts before adjusting so he was on his back. She followed, straddling his thighs and looking hungrily at the fine specimen of male anatomy before her. This time, she was going to take her sweet time in getting to climax. She trailed a finger down the middle of Clint's chest, over his abs, through his happy trail, and then up to the throbbing head of his cock. She gathered the drop of precum there and lifted it to her lips, making a show of sucking it off her finger.

Clint was transfixed at Natasha's actions. "Fuuuuck," he moaned, wanting to curse her for being such a vixen.

"Patience," Natasha whispered leaning down to kiss him.

Before they even joined intimately again, the pair took the time to simply touch each other and enjoy that touch without the frenetic energy of their previous love-making. They were nothing but Clint and Natasha. Two people who cared more about each other than anything else in the world. It was later, with a soft sigh that Natasha rose up on her knees and carefully sank down onto Clint, making a soft, 'aahhn' sound as she settled on him, their pelvises brushing, her breasts resting against his chest as her forehead rested on his. She wiggled her hips, clenching down on him and breathing heavily.

"Tasha…Tasha," the archer moaned, his hands grasping at her hips, kneading the flesh there in encouragement.

"Just lay back and enjoy," Natasha whispered, swivelling her hips around and purposefully squeezing her vaginal walls on him again. She rocked her hips, the wet sound of their movements loud in the stillness of the night. Their flesh lightly slapped together as Natasha began to roll her hips up and down, releasing and gripping the hot, thick shaft in turn. Clint resisted the urge to have his eyes roll into the back of his head from the heady, pleasurable sensations, and focussed on his lover's face. So beautiful. So amazing, this woman, that she found the strength to open up to him.

For a while, Natasha just slowly moved up and down, enjoying the slow build up of pleasure. It gave her an excuse to caress Clint more, to revel in his warmth.

Thumbs stroking over her hips, the archer jerked up into her randomly, hitting her sensitive places in all the right ways. He basked in the heat of her skin against his hands, how supple it was, toned from her efforts as a spy and regular training sessions. He loved her body. Proportionate. Delightful to watch her as her breathing began to speed up in time with his, even thought their pace was still set at slow.

"Close," Natasha murmured, hissing in pleasure as she swivelled her hips and clenched.

"Yeah, same as you," replied Clint, halting her movements before sitting up against the headboard, altering his position so it felt like he sank further into the silken heat. His shaft was pulsing, and he moaned simultaneously with his lover at the change the new angle brought them.

Their lips met in a tender tangle as their hips rocked together, keeping the same speed. It was a test of their self control – a rather pleasurable one at that too.

When they came this time, they climaxed together with a shudder, moaning each other's names softly to each other. Never had they felt more alive, and as they kissed, Clint was surprised to see Natasha had let a tear fall from her eyes. "Nat?" he asked tentatively, still caressing her in their afterglow.

"God, I'm such a sap," Natasha mumbled, embarrassed. "I can't help it. I missed you. And this was perfect – so perfect that I couldn't help but-"

"Shh," hushed Clint, knowing exactly what she meant, but not judging her for it. Tonight had been pretty overwhelming, but he felt in sync with her once more. He kissed her again, rejoicing that she had agreed to be his. He had wanted something like this for a while now. Now that he had it, he would try his hardest for it to never go.

Without words, knowing any more would cheapen the moment, the disentangled from each other long enough to cover themselves with Clint's thick blanket. They were exhausted physically and emotionally, and now only sleep was what they desired the most.

Snuggling up against Clint, smiling when she fit so nicely against his body and an arm wound around her shoulders, Natasha sighed in contentment. Yes, this is exactly what she'd unknowingly been wanting.

She had it. And she wasn't letting go.

* * *

**A/N: **All that lovely smut was for all my dedicated reviewers/alerters/favourites. I think you all deserved it after over five chapters of teasing and having these two separated.

So what happens next? It's not a fairytale just yet. There are still things to sort out. And an Avenger's family to shock and awe. Not to mention some more smut (hey, they got kinks too) ;D

Read and review guys! Spread the love :D Thanks!


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **So…they're back together. What's next for the duo? Read on! Thank you for the reviews. They are amazing. Keep up the great work guys, it's so rewarding for me to see your feedback and praise.

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse.**

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 16**

* * *

Natasha woke up slowly, the sound of a soft guitar melody filling her ears and the wonderful ache in her groin area that reminded her of the night activities.

A little smile slipped onto her face and she got up, snagging a spare shirt from Clint's closet and tugging it over her head before padding down from the bed-loft area and down the steps. Clint was in a shirt and sweats, softly strumming his acoustic guitar, his expression peaceful, and two cups of coffee on the side table next to him. He looked up when she reached the steps and smiled at her.

"Morning," he said lowly, the light of approval shining in his eyes when he realised that the redhead was wearing one of his shirts with nothing else underneath.

"Hey," she replied, grabbing her cup (she preferred hers black) and sitting across from him, placing space between them on purpose. As much as she felt thoroughly satisfied, these were unchartered waters for her. She had never really stayed the night at any of her past escapades.

Clint plucked at the strings a little more, content to wait while his partner was calm to listen. It was after a while he said, "You know, you don't have to be afraid to touch me."

"I'm not."

"Then why sit opposite me?"

Natasha felt some of her good mood evaporate. "Just in case this was only a physical thing," she replied, her tone giving no inflection, but Clint saw through it anyway.

He knew exactly why she didn't sit next to him. He was okay with it, as he knew her past, knew of the trust issues, especially with men in general. Which was why he had been so surprised to see Natasha walking back to the tower last night with Steve and Bruce laying a friendly arm around her shoulders. From what he had witnessed, it looked like the spy and Cap had gotten a bit closer, as well as the team getting along fairly well. Clint brought himself back to the conversation at hand.

"I, for one, don't want it to be. At least, that's not what I intend this relationship to be," he assured her, seeing Natasha's shoulders drop just a fraction in unspoken relief.

"Well, that's the thing with me," Natasha said quietly a few moments later, hesitant.

Clint's gaze sharpened, and he became a little more closed off, thinking perhaps he had read Natasha wrong last night. Did she expect them to become 'friends-with-benefits'?

Seeing the archer's expression, Natasha hastened to explain. "I don't mean I just want the physical aspect…although, if last night was any indication, that's pretty spectacular all by itself." Her cheeks flushed at the reminder, and Clint smirked. "What I mean is…I have no clue what the hell I'm doing. You know me Clint. You know I have never had anything more than a one night stand ever since I was 21. The only relationship I ever had was with Alexi, and I don't even think you could call that a relationship."

Clint opened his mouth to reassure her, when she cut him off by continuing, "I'm serious. In theory, I know how this works, but you know as well as I that reality is very different. I'm…I'm just unsure."

He shrugged, not seeing the problem. "Wing it. Who says we have to stick to theory?"

Natasha huffed. Clint was just not getting it. "I mean, we want this…right?"

"Right."

"So what I'm trying to ask is do you want to be evident in public, what do you want to conceal this thing, and how are we going to work together? That sort of thing, just to be clear. I want this to go as smoothly as possible," she explained. When she finished, she frowned, seeing Clint grinning at her. "What?" she snapped.

He rose, putting his guitar to the side, and came to sit next to her, gently bumping their shoulders together. "First of all, and I mean this the kindest way possible, you have to get out of the mentality that a relationship is like a mission that can be perfectly executed. Second, you're forgetting a key factor about us. We've been good friends for a while. You don't need to be unsure in explaining yourself to me."

Natasha felt shock lance through her, and then she dropped her head, realising the truth of his words. A warm hand grasped her chin and tilted her back to intense grey-blue eyes.

"Don't hide from me. Remember, I trust you," Clint murmured softly.

"Habits are hard to break."

"Yes. But that's why you have me," he replied. "As for how we're going to work together, the answer is simply this. The way we always have. Having each other's back, making sure that we bring ourselves back from hell alive. That'll never change, Nat. We're too good together."

The intensity and huskiness of his voice caused a shiver to go down Natasha's spine. God, his voice was so nice.

Clint made sure she was still paying attention by brushing his lips over hers briefly. "And about concealing this new development…to be honest, with the Avengers, with our own team, I don't care. In SHIELD, we have to act the same as before though. I don't want anything to happen to either one of us if the higher ups get word of a relationship between their two best agents. I kinda like this job."

"So do I," agreed the redhead, slowly relaxing into her partner's touch.

They sat there, staring into each other's eyes, no speech passing their mouths for fear of breaking the moment. They saw what the other felt, and understood each other completely. Their lips didn't touch, but were nose to nose, content to bask in the rare peace. Natasha moved to straddle him, unashamed of the giving of affection, just so she could absorb his warmth. It was comfortable.

Until, many minutes later, a frantic knock sounded in the door.

"Natasha?"

It was Steve.

Clint recognised the voice and looked at Natasha quizzically. She groaned and let her head flop down to her partner's neck.

"Natasha? Are you in here!"

"We gonna open up?" Clint asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

"I swear, he's like the stray dog that followed me home," groaned Natasha, hopping up off Clint's lap with a growl, stalking towards the door and yanking it open with a waspish, "What?"

Steve looked relieved for a split second before the realisation that the spy in front of him was angry. "Uh, hey. You weren't in your apartment, and JARVIS wouldn't tell me where you were…and…" He halted upon looking behind the redhead to see Clint, returned and alive, on the couch, watching with badly concealed amusement. Then, he registered the fact that Natasha was wearing only a baggy shirt, so he could see almost the whole length of her legs peeking out underneath the hem. His cheeks reddened and he cleared his throat, obviously connecting the dots together. "Uh…okay, you're all good, so I'll just leave now. It's good to see you back Clint."

Clint grinned at the Cap. "You too Rogers."

With an awkward shuffle of his feet, Steve nodded at Natasha and left.

As Natasha shut the door, Clint laughed, a full, rich sound. "Did you see his face?"

"Entertaining. It's like he's never seen a pair of legs before," Natasha drawled.

"He probably hasn't…at least not that much shown, and probably ones that aren't that nice," Clint replied, a hunger entering his eyes as the redhead sauntered back to him, reminding him of how much a temptation those legs were.

"Down boy," teased Natasha when she noticed his heated gaze. The attraction was pulling on her, but she resisted.

He just threw her another easy grin, reached out and unexpectedly pulled her down into his lap. "I'm glad to be back here. With you. With the team, yeah, but especially you," Clint admitted, resting his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling into her curls. Natasha smirked in amusement as the more affectionate side of her partner came out to play. It was good to see that he had swiftly adjusted out of his Hawkeye mind frame.

"You do know that Steve's probably gone off to tell everyone else?"

"Mmm…and?"

"And if we don't get changed and head down to the general area level, Tony, the nosy bastard, will probably come up here and try to listen at the door to see if we are having sex," replied Natasha, purring as Clint's nuzzling turned to feather light kisses over the column of her neck.

Clint snickered, "Don't feel like giving him something to gossip about?"

Natasha let out a very unladylike snort. "If I wanted to give him something to gossip about, I'd plan for it."

They both chuckled before getting up and grabbing clothes and getting ready. While they were doing so, the archer smiled knowingly at his partner. "You know how you were freaking about carrying on now that we're in a relationship? You have nothing to worry about. Banter back there was same as normal. There's nothing awkward about it, is there?"

Reviewing the scene, the redhead surprised herself by admitting that, yes, everything had been the same…and yet it was so different. There was a freedom to unlock herself. She smirked. Guess there was a ring of truth to that saying 'the truth will set you free.' "We'll see," she replied, still a little cynical. She really didn't have a clue about what a real romantic relationship was like, and so she reserved her final opinion on whether this would work out well.

She hoped. But if hopes grew on trees…

By the time the couple got to the general area, the rest of the team had gathered – Natasha cursing under her breath that the guys were as gossipy as old women! – and were waiting for them.

As Clint stepped out, he felt an overwhelming sense of _home_. Here with Natasha. Here with the Avengers. It felt good.

"Hey-"

He began to greet them, but was cut off by a roar of joy before a certain thunder god lunged for him, lifting him off his feet in a bone-crushing hug.

"Ah! Friend Hawkeye, it is good to see you again!" exclaimed Thor, spinning around once in his jubilance.

"Easy big guy!" Clint called out, squirming around and letting out a chuckle. Yep, he and Thor would have to have another belch-a-thon. The guy's mood was infectious.

Once he was put down, he accepted Bruce's warm handshake and inquiry of health. Steve…still looked a little bashful as he waved. Tony, however, had one of the slyest smiles he had ever seen, and it instantly had Clint wary of it.

"So…Clint, buddy old pal," Tony smirked, "when did you get back?"

"Last night. Saw you guys coming back from a pizza place."

The billionaire's grin widened. "So, you and the ever wonderful Agent Romanoff spent all that time together from then until now? From what Capsicle said, you two looked kinda cosy when he barged in."

Either Tony had a death wish or he simply wasn't caring about the fact that the look Natasha was giving him was enough to put him six feet under. Clint modulated his expression so that it was blank and stony, eyes narrowing and arms crossing forebodingly over his chest. This look would put any normal man into a state enough to make them pee themselves from fear. Tony was, unfortunately, immune for the most part. He pouted and whined, "Aw, you're no fun Barton."

"Unlike you, I prefer living," Clint replied, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head towards Natasha.

Tony looked her way, hiding his nervous gulp, remembering he had screwed up with the whole 'pregnancy' thing with the spy. Yeah, probably wasn't best to tick her off. She looked royally pissed, lips pursed and eyes glinting dangerously.

"Stark…do you even know the definition of _privacy?_" she said softly in her most dangerous tone.

"…"

"Yes would be the answer, Tony," a voice answered from the elevator, where Pepper just walked in to join the reunion. She smiled at Clint as she came to thwack her boyfriend on the back of his head. "Nice to see you back Agent Barton."

"Likewise."

"Tony…I know it's hard, but play nice," Pepper admonished.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yes mother," then deadpanned, deciding to safely drop it.

For now.

He'd get details another time.

After a bit more idle chit chat, the team decided to have breakfast together. Clint on bacon and eggs, Steve on pancakes, and Bruce making the toast while Pepper and Natasha set the table and made sure Thor and Tony didn't try to help – it would only make a mess. Clint noticed as he cooked how well everyone seemed to be getting along now. He didn't miss the familiarity between Natasha and Steve, but also between her and the rest of them. It seemed, once again, he was behind in terms of fitting into the Avengers. While there was a sting of bitterness, it was soothed by the fact they were all informing him on what had happened while he had been on the Montoya mission. He was filled in about Zooker and the stolen Stark tech, the Epigshkin Thor had brought from Asgard, Natasha being Steve's dating coach and how he had finally had the time with Penny Carter he had missed out on.

In return, he told them about Spain. He didn't let out any details about his mission, but his captive audience of Bruce, Pepper, Thor, and Steve were curious about the food and people. Tony had been there, done that, while Natasha had been there as an assassin once, so she already knew.

It was entertaining to see Bruce get excited about Paella. Who knew the scientist was such a foodie? Clint observed that Bruce was more of an ethnic food lover in comparison to Steve, who seemed to know how to cook pretty decently in terms of everything that wasn't classified as 'ethnic.'

About halfway through breakfast, Steve spoke up. "Natasha, are we still scoping out that cafe?"

Natasha looked up sharply. She was confused. Cafe?

"You know…we were talking about naturally talking to people?" Steve prompted.

Natasha sighed. She had forgotten. Hey, reunion sex will do that to a woman. "Yeah yeah, whatever. After breakfast," she said, waving him off.

Clint smirked at the hopeful look the blonde man shot his partner. The puppy analogy was surprisingly accurate for a man who, in battle, was no-nonsense and a true fighter.

"Well, while you're doing that…Thor, wanna do a burping re-match?" the archer asked the larger man, being rewarded by an enthusiastic grin.

"I look forward to our mighty challenge Clint," Thor replied.

The god of thunder, like the rest of the team, had been overjoyed to have Clint back. Not only for the burping matches and for the chance to be taught how to drive a car (it seemed Clint was the only one who was patient enough with him…), but because of the marked change in Natasha. He noticed that before Clint's return, Natasha never did seem full of ease. Now, with her partner back, only then did she trust that someone was there to watch her back. Thor found her reactions quite fascinating, for they were scarily like Lady Sif. Yes, Natasha would have been one worthy of being called Asgardian. If she was a little taller.

The group separated their own ways, Tony and Bruce heading for the labs for some science nerd bonding, while Clint and Thor headed for the gym to do their competition in peace, and Steve and Natasha for the garage.

A lazy day in the Avenger's team.

* * *

Entering the cafe, Natasha smiled at the scent of fresh coffee beans. Chicchi di Caffè was her favourite coffee shop in Manhattan. It had the best coffee in her opinion because the coffee was smooth, not bitter, and the coffee beans were never older than a month. The staff were friendly and were very accommodating. And made killer white chocolate and raspberry muffins too.

Steve entered after her, looking around the cosy space with an uncertain eye.

"Here?"

"Here," the redhead confirmed, marching up to the counter and ordering her usual double-shot long black and one of those amazing muffins. Steve got his own hot chocolate and a piece of lemon meringue. One they were seated, Steve uncomfortably shifted, noting that there were way more women than men in the place.

Their drinks and snacks arrived, and despite having breakfast not long ago, Natasha dove in with relish, enjoying the play of flavours on her tongue. A sip of the wonderfully smooth coffee followed by a bite of the still warm and sweet muffin. Indulgence.

Steve picked at his own cake, not really tasting it.

Natasha raised her eyebrow in exasperation. "I've had that meringue many times. I know it's homemade and best had in the middle of the day. You like food. You should be scarfing that down as easily as Thor would. What's up?"

The blonde muttered, "Do you have telepathy or something?"

"No. Just amazing people-reading skills a majority of the time," retorted the spy.

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I wonder if we're trying too hard. I mean, I know I was the one who asked you for help on this whole dating thing, but you've told me so many times that 'if it happens it happens' that I wonder if there's any point for you to continue to help me out."

"That's your prerogative, but you shouldn't just stop putting yourself out there," advised Natasha, not really surprised by this. It was her turn to shrug, "But whenever you need my help, just say the word. Until then, we can still go out as friends if you want."

Steve smiled. "I like that better."

"And honestly Steve? Don't let your guilt over what you said to Tony dictate your actions."

The man's mouth dropped open, and then he looked a little ashamed. Natasha resisted the urge to smirk. Tony had been the one to pressure Steve to go out to look for a girl, and because of the pressure and residual guilt, Steve had done so. Seeing Peggy had been half of the equation. This was the other.

"I…I guess I never saw my reaction as _that_ before," said a stunned Steve.

"That's why you have friends," pointed out the spy, finishing off her drink and snack, Steve following her. They stood, and Steve asked to clarify, "So, we're not going to anything 'singles oriented' until I say so, right?"

"Right. No rush," replied Natasha. She turned to grab her bag and missed what happened next.

She heard a 'whoa,' a shriek, and the splat of spilled coffee on the floor. Her fingers twitching, itching to reach for her gun in an instinctual movement, Natasha whirled around to see Steve's crisp (plain, not plaid, for once) white shirt covered with coffee, a curly-haired woman looking mortified at the fact she had split her coffee all over this stranger.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, I'm such a clutz," the woman said, hastily grabbing some napkins from a table and attempting to dab at Steve's shirt. Her bright blue eyes were sincere and apologetic. Steve could only watch as the young lady tried to mop up the already absorbed brown liquid. After her fourth attempt, he gently took her hands in his, the motion forcing her to look at him.

"No harm done," Steve reassured with an easy smile. "It's only a shirt. I'm sure some people will think it's just a new shirt design."

The woman laughed, and instantly Natasha saw the faint chemistry between Steve and this woman. With skills born from years of practice, she blended into the shadows of the cafe to observe.

"Still, I feel bad for ruining your shirt," the brown-haired woman said. "I want to make up for you. Will you let me pay for the dry cleaning?"

Ever the chivalrous gentleman, Steve shook his head firmly. "It's a shirt ma'am. Not a priceless artefact. I'm not going to take your money because of an accident."

"I'm not a ma'am," the woman admonished lightly. "My name is Bethany."

"Bethany…I'm Steve." He reached out and shook hands with her. Natasha had to smother a laugh as she saw Bethany practically swoon at Steve's manners. "And it's fine. Really. I feel bad for you because you missed out on your coffee."

Bethany looked shy then, although she didn't look away from Steve's face, standing her ground. "Let me make it up to you Steve. Can we…that is, if you want to…meet here for lunch in a few days?"

Steve beamed at her, and he pulled out his phone to exchange numbers – as Natasha taught him to – as Bethany pulled out hers. "That sounds really good actually. I'm kinda new to the area and not really up to date with the times."

Blue eyes shone in a youthful face. "That's cool with me! Just be prepared…I like to talk!"

Natasha watched as they exchanged numbers and arranged to meet in two days time at noon. Steve looked pleased, and when she stepped forward, his grin got wider. "Did you see that?"

"Yeah, you got a date out of having coffee spilt on you. Great job," Natasha said, and couldn't resist teasing, "Shows how much the decision not to try worked."

Nodding, Steve asked, "What do you reckon? I think she's nice."

The redhead shrugged. "It doesn't matter what I think. You have to trust yourself."

* * *

"_BUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRPP!"_

"Ah, that was an excellent one Clint, but I will once again defeat you!"

"Bring it!"

"_BBBBBBB...UU...UUUUUUUUUU...UUUUUUUUUURP_!"

"Damn, Thor, is half of that stored in your lungs somewhere?" Clint asked the thunder god with a grin, finding it unendingly hilarious that Thor's belch seemed to rumble up from deep inside of him.

Thor quipped, "The Son of Odin must be best in all he does…including expelling air!"

Clint chuckled, grabbing his bow and quiver, switching to a suction cup/line arrow, launching it towards the can of and flicking it back into his hand. He chugged it down, knowing that it was the secret to a good, hard belch. He let it build, adding air, and then let rip.

"**BBBBBBBB UUUUUUUUUUU UUUUUUUUUUUUU UUUUUUUUUUUUU UUUUUUU RRRRPPP****!"**

But he and Thor laughed aloud. There was something so 'blokey' about having a burping competition to encourage bonding. In fact, they were laughing so hard that Thor couldn't muster up the will to try and burp again. He would rather laugh than try and outdo Clint at the moment. The archer was feeling rather proud of himself, knowing that burp was worthy of an Oscar if they gave out an award for 'Best Burp' and 'Funniest Burp.'

* * *

After spending the rest of the day sorting through some horrible SHIELD paperwork and research (thanks Fury), Natasha was surprised to find it was dark outside the windows of her apartment and that there was a firm knock on the door, one she recognised instantly.

She opened the door to see Clint, looking good in jeans and a grey shirt, enough to make Natasha's hormones sit up and take notice.

"Hey."

"Hey. Can I come in?"

"Of course," she replied, turning away.

Clint saw the large sheaf of paper on the table and recognised it. "Ew. Paperwork. The horrible part of being an agent."

"Especially since this new idiot is not as nice or as accommodating as Coulson.," the redhead hissed, muttering curses on the unfortunate person who invented SHIELD paperwork in the first place. Clint found it oddly cute and sat on the couch to wait for his partner to finish her rant. This was not the most orthodox way to start a relationship, he would admit, but he liked the closeness, the fact there were very little barriers between them now.

Done, Natasha looked up to find Clint watching her like…well, a hawk.

"What?"

"Just thinking how much I want to kiss you," the archer said nonchalantly, but his eyes dark with want and affection.

Smirking, the redhead asked slyly, "What's stopping you?"

"The fact that once I start, I might not want to stop until…say, midnight?"

"Who said I'd want it to stop at kissing?"

They smiled at each other, completely on the same wavelength. Dinner could wait. The desire to reconnect was strong and irresistible. Soon, mouths met in a fiery passion, Natasha being flung over Clint's shoulder when it got too intense. She shrieked when he slapped her ass playfully before placing her on the bed. Clothes were shed, bodies collided with almost bruising force, leaving them panting and gasping for breath for a long time, over and over until one in the morning, when they finally stopped, exhausted and satisfied.

"What…on earth brought that on?" Natasha asked later, laying atop her lover, who looked just as worn out as she was.

"Years of repressed desire, Tasha. Gonna come out a hell of a lot," Clint replied, loving the feel of her skin under his hands.

Natasha was quiet for a few moments, before brushing a kiss over his lips and murmuring, "Damn skippy. I think I really like this relationship thing better and better with each second I spend with you."

* * *

**A/n: I know this chapter is a bit choppy, but I really wanted each of those little scenes in there. I felt like if I didn't get them out of the way then the next chapter would be too packed full with stuff that didn't really fit into it at that point in time.**

**So, what I would really LOVE would be for you to review. I am thankful that I've got an amazing fanbase who continuously boost my spirits when I'm stuck on a section. And for people who have put this fic on your alert/favourite, thank you to you too. Spreading the love!**

**What did you think? What was your favourite part? (Mine was the last bit XD, I'm a sucker for BlackHawk. Oh, and the burping was funny, at least to me, too). And do you approve of Steve's 'date?' What do you think should happen next with the illegal Stark tech?**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **I am about to inject more drama into the fic! Let it commence. I realised that's what has been missing for the past few chapters and that's a little bit more plot drama. I'm going to expand on the 'Tony's illegal weapons' issue and also on BlackHawk

**A/N 2:** Yes, I realise this chapter has been late, but that's been due to a holiday and illness, it being wintery in Australia and all. So I apologise, and I hope this has been well worth the wait.

**Verse:** Avengers Movie-Verse

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings. Smut in this early bit. Mentions of violence.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse.**

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 17**

* * *

Clint woke up with the most delicious feeling of contentment. If he could bottle it and keep it for the days where life got tough, he would. As Hawkeye, he had slept in some of the most uncomfortable places in the world. To wake up with a pliant, curvy body pressed up against his own was relaxing. It was scary how easy he could get used to a feeling like this. In the moments before the day truly began, where everything was fresh and new and stress was waiting in the wings, tranquillity took precedence.

The woman in Clint's arms shifted in her sleep, her crimson hair sliding along his arm. Her naked peacefulness was attractive, and Clint was glad to see it. Glad to see that _he_ was the cause of it.

Arousal stirred deep in his belly as his hands stroked absentmindedly over soft, warm skin.

Curiosity was becoming a factor as a fantasy played inside of his mind.

Deciding not to over think what he had planned, Clint carefully shimmied his body underneath the sheets covering their nakedness, positioning himself between creamy-skinned legs that framed an appealing mound of scarlet curls. Operation: Wake Up Call was about to commence. Spreading Natasha's legs a little wider, Clint brushed kisses all up and down those lethally strong thighs, as light as he could, knowing that his lover would soon wake from his ministrations. His kisses evolved into hot, passionate open mouthed suckles of the delicate flesh, licking over the marks he left. Soon, he could smell the arousal wafting off her sex, and awareness crept up on her.

"Nnnn...ooh…Clint?" Natasha whimpered sleepily, coming awake to hot sensations jolting from her centre.

In reply, Clint swiped the flat of his tongue abruptly over the wet opening, eliciting a sharp gasp. She was definitely awake after that.

"Good morning," he purred, whipping the covers off above his head so he could smirk up into his lover's flushed face.

"It is now," she replied, wriggling a little in anticipation at the look in Clint's darkened eyes. They didn't just look, they _smouldered_.

The archer snickered, going back into his task with relish, nuzzling the tender skin of the inner thighs before licking once more over the quivering sensitive outer folds. Hands reached down to fist in his short hair, and a high-pitched moan wound its way from Natasha's throat. "More," she gasped.

"Tut tut, so demanding, Romanoff," Clint teased, using his hands to anchor Natasha's hips. He wanted to test how much she would let him control her. So he could set the boundaries for next time.

Touching his tongue to the spot that he knew would drive her wild, Clint let the taste seep into his mind, imprinting it there. She moaned and writhed as his tongue slid, slippery with her arousal, over her clit, not enough to overwhelm, but enough to do more than tease. He then moved down, flicking into the slick crevice where his cock had been not seven hours earlier. Still so warm, so tight. He then laid his mouth over her, sucking on her clit, playing with it and driving his lover wild. The throaty moans and high cries streaming out of her mouth were the sweetest music to Clint's ears as he pleasured her.

Natasha swore stars almost exploded behind her eyes as her partner alternated between her opening and her sweet spot.

Unknowingly she slipped into Russian, speaking endearments and curses in turn with the rise and ebb of the sensations tingling through her lower region.

"_Please, I can't take it much more…I will become undone,"_ Natasha pleaded in Russian. The pleasure was too intense, making her feel like a ticking time bomb.

"Then undo," Clint replied, stepping up his assault and sliding two fingers into Natasha, relishing her shriek as he massaged her inner walls, searching for her g-spot as his mouth was busy with her clit, sucking, licking, anything to make her orgasm so hard she didn't want to get up.

The redhead's prediction came true when the sensations broke over her in never ending waves, launching her into a powerful release. Her thighs tightened around Clint's head as he eagerly lapped up the evidence of her orgasm, revelling in the short scream she trilled as she came. Legs trembled and became lax, falling to either side of her lover's body as the aftershocks were ridden out. Natasha's breathing was heavy as she stared up at the ceiling, not thinking with the amount of feeling clouding her senses.

The archer arched and amused brow as he kissed up his partner's body, covering her with his own.

Natasha attempted to speak, but found herself lost for words. Clint's chuckle resonated to her ears. "That good, huh?" he asked with a playful smile.

The spy finally found her voice. "Considering no one has done that for me in well over a year, then yes. I forgot how nice oral was."

Clint's playfulness died a bit at her words. "I think a lover should be considerate, that sex goes both ways. If no one had the consideration to give you such pleasure, they're idiots. I really enjoyed watching you just…explode."

A light smile transformed Natasha's features into one of tenderness. "Thank you, Clint."

They both knew it was more than a thank you for a simple act of oral sex. It was a thank you for being supportive and patient while they still learned more about each other's personal rhythms and habits. It was a thank you that covered more than what they were willing to say.

* * *

Much later, Clint walked into the general floor refreshed and having to hide his smirk.

However, all his good mood vanished once he saw Bruce and Tony staring at the massive TV screen with grim expressions. His full attention was diverted to it when he heard 'alleged Stark weapons' accompanying the footage of what looked like to be a school decimated by something undoubtedly powerful.

"_According to a Stark Enterprises spokesperson, the weapons that are reported to have done this damage were never meant to be manufactured and were still in their experimental phase before being shut down by CEO Tony Stark himself at the time. Citizens are wondering if there are more Stark weapons secrets that need to come to light for the safety of all. Will Tony Stark do anything? We will report as we know," _the anchorman said as more footage showed of the discarded Stark weapons at the scene, which was confirmed to be the arts wing of a local university. So far the body count was 34, although there were more to find in the rubble.

"Shiiiiit," breathed the archer.

"Yeah, well, that about sums _that_ up," Tony said sombrely, the faint lines on his face more pronounced as the news showed more footage of the damage, of fearful onlookers who watched the fire-fighters try and find anyone alive in the destruction. The camera had shown what had looked to be a collection of stationery that had been marked by the Stark logo, and the report had informed that instead of stationery, the stapler, pens, and desk calendar were actually powerful bombs. The same that had been used to create the blast that had destroyed part of a university.

"Why aren't we suiting up and going to help?" Clint demanded, horror seeping into him at the fact that Tony had invented something that had looked so _normal_, and yet it did so much destruction.

"Steve talked with Fury. He doesn't want us out just yet just in case the media mobs us all and makes everything worse. Pepper has gone to Stark industries to help calm the media storm and make it clear that Stark Enterprises does not support the actions of others who have used Stark tech. That, and to force it to the media that these were highly illegal and that Tony Stark has been horribly betrayed," Bruce informed quickly, shifting closer to his fellow genius in a show of companionship. "It's horrible. But no one's claimed to the explosion."

Tony's face had turned remorseful and his eyes closed as more footage played across the screens."I wish we could have found another cache before this happened."

Clint's fury built as he watched Tony's shoulders slump in dejection. Not just for the meaningless taking of lives, but for going after one of his teammates. Tony could be an idiot, but he was a loyal idiot. A good friend, regardless of his ego.

"We'll get the fucktards Tony. Go after one Avenger, they go after us all," the archer rumbled, his fingers twitching as he suddenly longed for his bow in his hands, and a worthy target to sink an arrow into.

Tony just shrugged, while Bruce smirked sadly at Clint's attempt of getting them geared up. "Maybe you can round up the rest? I think Thor and Natasha don't know yet, they've been in the training room for a little while now," he suggested.

Knowing that next to Pepper, Bruce was the best at comforting the usually loud-mouthed billionaire, Clint nodded curtly and left, heading down to the training room.

It was a real pity. The day had started out _so_ well.

Once there, seeing Thor and Natasha calm and enjoying themselves as they compared knife-throws, the archer almost didn't have the heart to tell them what had happened. When Natasha turned, and saw the grave look in his eyes, she recognised it instantly and the happy light that had been shining in her own eyes dimmed.

Thor was not as observant. "Barton! Come to match your skills against that of mine and Lady Natasha's?"

Clint shook his head. "No Thor. Something big has happened with the illegal Stark weapons."

Like the two SHIELD agents, the thunder god's mood dropped. "What has happened?"

"It's better if you see it for yourselves," Clint explained, beckoning to them and leading the way back up to the general meeting level.

The aura was even worse than when he left it, and now Steve was there and added to the mix. Tony was seated on his favourite armchair, staring off at nothing, wrapped inside his own thoughts, his whole pose screaming dejectedness.

"There's been another attack," Bruce explained, before turning up the volume on the TV.

"_In a related incident to what has been termed 'The Arts Wing' bombing, gunmen stormed the Wal-Mart on Broadway and attacked any man, woman, or child in sight. The images are too horrifying to show to the public, as informed by police at the scene. Reportedly, the two gunmen used illegal Stark guns which had specialised bullets that, once embedded into a body, explode and reduce the bodies to nothing more than…meat. So far it has been identified that fifteen people have been murdered as such. One of the gunmen was stopped by one shopper wrestling him for the gun, while the other is missing." _The news presenter looked grim and horrified. He looked up from the information had been reading and continued. "_While this news is terrible, we here at the news station urge you all to be vigilant and to report any suspicious weapons activities to your local police."_

Bruce flicked off the screen after that final announcement, letting it sink into their heads.

"Misfortune is casting its spell over us," Thor said in the silence after.

Tony's eyes were closed, and he would have looked serene if not for the distinct tinge of self loathing at the announcement. "I remember those. Worked with Obie on them before I decided it was cruel to mass produce the bullets. Bigger than normal bullets and packed tightly with explosives. But they were unstable. Why did I ever think that…"

"You can't ask why Tony," Bruce answered his friend softly. "Like I can't ask why I was so stupid as to get caught up in the gamma radiation."

Natasha was next to speak up. "We can't linger on this. Tony, you made them, and you did the right thing in banning them. It is the fault of others who have decided to play with destruction."

Tony looked ready to protest, when Clint cut in. "She's right. The only thing we can do now is prevent more bloodshed. We need to use every resource we have to clear your name, find the rest of the caches, and get the bastards."

They all looked to Steve to see what he had to say.

While he looked sick from what they had heard, their unofficial leader had enough wry humour in him to say, "Looks like I'll have to re-schedule my date tomorrow."

Tiny smiles touched each of their faces, a touch of levity to such a ominous task ahead of them.

"Clint, I know you deserve more days off that what you've had, but could you and Natasha try and worm everything you can out of SHIELD? We need to find out who else was in on the Stark Weapons dealing," Steve said, seeing the agents body postures change to businesslike and ready for any action.

"We will. We'll let you know what we find," the archer replied, already mentally planning what avenues he could use to get what he wanted. From the look on his partner's face, she was doing the same.

"I'll go through my employee files," Tony volunteered, looking as determined as the team had ever seen him.

Thor piped up, "What may I do to help?"

"Come with me. We'll go to the Wal-Mart scene. Bruce, can you go to the Arts Wing and pick up the bombs if you can? Try and collect everything that can be used," Steve directed softly, yet firmly.

"Let's suit up, Avengers," Tony announced.

* * *

After sending Fury a communiqué via comm. link, the two spies were headed out of the city towards Westchester, where the Helicarrier was going to pick them up – near Professor X's school for mutants. Clint had a lead foot as he zoomed through the winding streets in one of Tony's custom cars.

"Easy. I'd rather save lives, not have someone save ours because of the rush," Natasha scolded quietly.

"I'm pissed."

"Gee, I couldn't tell," the redhead bit back sarcastically.

Darting a glance to her, the archer blew out a frustrated sigh and eased off on the gas pedal. She was just as annoyed that there were madmen carrying their teammate's illegal weapons and stirring up crap and causing headaches and trouble. "Sorry," he muttered.

"It's fine," Natasha said.

Uh-oh. Clint knew that tone, and everything was _not_ fine. Copying one of her most used lines, he stated, "Spit it out, Romanoff."

"No."

"Why not?"

"We have a job to do, no time for personal frustrations," she retorted defensively.

"Just because we've decided to extend our partnership to be more intimate, it's not an excuse for suddenly deciding not to share what annoys us," he argued back.

Knowing they were nearing their destination, and also knowing that if they didn't clear the air between them, their fellow agents would notice, Natasha relented. "Fine. For once, I'm sick of going to save the world. I feel like I just cleaned up one mess for it to reappear on the other side of the world. Same shit, different fan. I know that we're reformed, me especially," she rambled furiously, "and what we do, we do for good, but sometimes, like now, I just want to say 'screw it,' and just curl up in bed with a blanket over my head."

Clint didn't say a word, taking the rant in and gauging the mood of the woman sitting next to him.

"Now, don't you feel better?" he finally asked.

With a wry smile, Natasha replied, "Much." When she saw his smug smirk, she growled, "Oh stop it Mr. Haughty."

"I told you."

"My fist can tell you something too," she warned. Clint didn't know if it was playful or not, so he wisely remained quiet as they reached their destination. He had served the purpose of getting her to focus on the task ahead of them and also reducing her tension levels by getting her to talk it out. Score.

A small jet waited for them at an unused field, where they hid the car and climbed in. Soon, they were rising towards the great invisible behemoth in the sky called the helicarrier.

"Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton. Welcome back, your identities have been confirmed," an automated female voice echoed around them as they began to land.

The two stepped off and marched for Fury's office. Ever since Coulson's unfortunate death, he had partially taken over the role of their handler, for now at least. The familiar imposing figure of their boss was visible as they rounded the corner to his sanctum. He saw them and instantly knew what they were here for.

"Sir," Clint and Natasha greeted in perfect military unison as they stood in front of him.

"Agents. I have the information that you both requested," Nick replied, holding out a thick folder. "Here's all the SHIELD information on John Zooker and known associates. We've highlighted the names of the other three dead at the original crime scene. All the search engines are open to your Theta passwords, but don't linger too much. We need you out for the rest of your team as soon as you can." It was clear the last statement was as close to an order without being direct about it.

"Yes sir," said Natasha.

"The think tank got more arrows for me?" asked Clint, hoping for some new designs to play with.

"Not yet. But we have a refill if you need it," replied Fury. He nodded at his two agents and left.

Fury was glad his skin was dark. It was easier to hide his smirk. Looks like the Black Widow and Hawkeye had gotten together after all.

Oblivious to their boss's thoughts, the two went to their usual space to hash out a plan – the SHIELD library. Not many people liked to go in there, and was easy to secure as an area to discuss sensitive topics, and it was a favourite haunt of both Clint and Natasha when they had lived on board the helicarrier.

Making sure no interruptions would be made, Clint turned to his partner. Natasha threw him a sheaf of papers, which he deftly caught. He looked questioningly at her.

"I'm going to look at Zooker's file. I want you to look at everything else and cross-check with Tony about any of his employees."

"Divide and conquer," muttered Clint amusedly.

Natasha flashed a quick smirk this way before getting stuck into the tedious job of finding out all of Zooker's dirty little secrets.

Exactly forty minutes and thirty seven seconds later, she found it.

"Shit."

* * *

**A/N: Mwhuhhahahah! **Mini-cliffie. So, who's been going around with Stark weapons? Who wants to know what the other Avengers found while Natasha and Clint were researching?** Keep up the reviewing guys! More reviews = more inspiration = the faster a chapter goes up.**

I hope you liked Clint's 'breakfast.' ;D I know I did.

I know this chapter is a bit shorter than the ones I have been doing, but I needed it to be or else it would never have gotten out.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **Okay, I'm trying to say this in the most non-whiny way as possible. But where are my reviewers? When the amount of reviews rapidly decreases from a high peak, I assume I've lost my audience somewhere. I don't ask because I just want reviews to boost my ego, but reviews do honestly inspire me and help to assure me I'm on track with my fic. I would really like to know what you guys would like to see more of. The rest of the fic is unwritten. I have a general idea/direction, but if you guys would like to see something, drop me a line in a review. Or even if you want me to stop something, let me know so I can review my writing.

Okay, rant over.

**I AM really grateful for those who have put this fic in their favourites list and who have put me on story alert. It is quite thrilling to see the numbers when I do check them. **

**In other news, I've recently gotten a Lego-style Hawkeye. He's adorable!**

**Rating: **M

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse.**

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 18**

* * *

When Tony had seen the first reports that weapons had been used to destroy an Arts wing, he had known, without the presenter even saying it, that it had been Stark tech. He had a bad feeling when he had woken up, and hadn't questioned it. Last time he ignored it, he had been captured and had to be kept alive by an electromagnet.

Seeing the images of spare 'stationery weapons' (yes, at the time, he had thought the play on words had been rather clever), that he was sure had been sent off to be destroyed, had stumped him.

He was numb, watching the carnage, knowing that his brain-children had been the cause of it. It was the same raw feeling he had when he had seen how his weapons had been used by the enemy in the Middle East.

He had barely noticed Bruce come in, only when Clint's angry tone entered had he realised who was there.

Good old Bruce. Didn't say a thing about his apparent lack of attention to his surroundings.

When he had moved closer when the archer left, Tony had been grateful. He knew the scientist understood.

Just when a bit of determination had entered him, it had fled when the next report had come in.

The exploding bullets. How the hell had they got their hands on _those?_ He had been certain that he had eradicated all evidence that they were even made as well as the bullets themselves. The bullets, codenamed 'hannibal' bullets, were even more concerning than the 'stationery weapons.' There was no getting away with a simple gunshot wound with these bullets – they destroyed all evidence that a person even existed save for DNA left from when they exploded.

Tony sat, riveted, as he heard the evidence of the atrocities committed.

They wanted a statement from him? Ha. Sure. How about, 'I have no idea who the idiots are, I'm sorry.' Would that be enough for the press to chew on? Not likely.

He felt as if he had just been sent up shit creek without a paddle to navigate the mire.

When Thor had said his oh-so-philosophical statement, he had admitted that he and Obediah Stane had worked on the contraptions. Mostly Obie's work, true, but he had been the genius behind the formula of getting the tiny sensors on the bullets to recognise flesh to combust in.

Tony knew he then had the pain-staking job of going through his employee files to see who was close while he was working on all of his old weapons projects. Someone either must have had a grudge against him, or their loyalties were stronger to someone else.

After the team broke up to depart ways, Tony rushed to his favourite computer lab. "JARVIS, locate all employee files where the person has left under suspicious circumstances or had a grudge against me."

"Of course sir, files are loading now," replied the robotic system. "Categorising in order of most likely to have access to Stark Weapons."

Tony seated himself and got to work, clearing his mind of all anger, knowing that it would only cloud his thoughts where they needed to be focussed. And he would not let a lack of focus keep him from finding the person responsible for this mess.

* * *

When Bruce got to the site of the bombing, he nearly hulked out then and there at the injustice of it all.

An educational institution brought down, and for what? To send a message to Tony Stark? To the Avengers as a whole? The fact that they had to research to create these links to provide an answer annoyed Bruce. While they were running around to search for clues, the perpetrators were out there, planning their next move.

Inaction didn't suit Bruce well. Even when he had imposed himself to self-exile in India, he had found something to occupy his mind.

Without a focus, his thoughts whirled and his emotions came more tumultuous. The other guy was at the edge of his conscious now, greedily pushing to be let free. The scientist tramped it down firmly. There was time for that when they found the manipulator behind the chain of events.

For now, all he could do is gingerly collect the inactive bombs and return to the tower to help Tony with his own search.

* * *

Thor and Steve raced down to the garage after they suited up, Steve grabbing the keys to a motorcycle and a sidecar which Tony had specifically modified to hold a greater weight than normal.

He made a mental note to thank the billionaire for that.

Thor was silent, thankfully letting him concentrate on getting to the location of the Wal-Mart fast. He had a Bluetooth in his ear which connected him to JARVIS, who was quietly giving him the directions.

As they came up on it, grim expressions fixed themselves on the two Avengers faces. Police cars were sprawled all over the street and parking lot, a few groups of people, one being attended to by medics, others mourning for those still inside. All were crying. All had looks of horror.

"This isn't going to turn out well," Captain America muttered as he parked his bike.

"No. But such is the way of heroes to be the responsible ones," Thor replied quietly, pensive as he watched a woman wail as a medic talked to her.

"Ain't that the truth."

Steve didn't really feel like entering the store. To see the gore he knew would be waiting. So he delayed, heading over to those in charge. After some intense, quiet discussion, the detective in charge solemnly handed over the evidence bag containing the rifle and leftover bullets recovered from the dead gunman. Thor took them from Steve's hand, examining it. "Seems like other weapons that humans use," he remarked.

"But ten times deadlier," Cap pointed out soberly.

"If these had been other circumstances, I would have congratulated friend Tony for such an amazing piece of craftsmanship for battle." Thor ran his hand over the deadly machinery one last time before handing it back to the team leader. Steve let the weight rest, heavy, on his palm. The weight of the world, it felt like, in his hand. Sighing deeply, he locked it into a compartment on his motorbike. The police had no issues with them taking it, now that most of the madness around the attack had ebbed a bit. Besides, SHIELD would have gotten it anyway.

As much as he didn't want to see inside (and he was pretty sure Thor didn't want to either), Steve steeled himself. He had seen the horrific conditions of Nazi death camps – it had prepared him.

Thor had been in battle many times, had seen bloodshed occur more times than he could count. And he still was sickened when the two Avengers walked into the seemingly innocuous supermarket.

"Oh good God," swore Steve when they encountered the surrounds, that looked straight out of a grisly horror film. There was so much blood.

Thor was silent, not trusting to hold his tongue at the injustices that these people had suffered. This was a new type of torture he had seen. With Mjolnir in hand, he walked ahead of Captain America, taking in the death lingering in the air. He prayed then, for the souls of these people to make their way to the afterlife. He also prayed for wisdom from his father, Odin, in dealing with such senselessness, to not let his temper get away from him like it had a few years ago. It could easily, given what had happened here.

Steve fought the bile rising in his gut. "How terrified they must have been," he whispered to himself, his heart swelling with compassion for the people who had died, and also for the ones who had gotten away, scarred with images like these in their brain.

He looked up at Thor then, saw the resolve only become more concrete. They met eyes and nodded, the message going wordlessly between them.

_We must go on._

* * *

"Shit."

Natasha clenched the paper in her hands as she read the name.

"Nat?"

She didn't reply, plots of murder going through her mind, planning the demise of the fool who had decided to plot with Zooker.

"Natasha," Clint called again, getting her attention at last.

She looked up at him, and he could see the fury in her eyes.

Oh yeah. Someone was gonna get it, and he was just going to stand by and watch (and possibly take notes).

"Who?" he asked.

"Senator Thomas Stern. The file reads that Stern has helped Zooker with those contacts, the bastard. Especially after Tony got better after the replacing of the palladium core." The redhead's voice was barely level as she relayed the information. "According to this, Zooker and Stern have known each other for a long time, while Obediah Stane was still in charge of most of the operating for Stark Industries."

Clint couldn't help the sigh that escaped him. Why did it always have to be a dirty politician? It always made things so tedious and made plans fraught with back-ups should mentioned politician turn the tables on them.

Fury wasn't going to be happy about this.

"I'll call Tony, see what he's found, and I'll ask him if any of his employees were chummy with either Zooker or Stern," the archer said, whipping out his cell phone and punching in the numbers.

Natasha nodded distractedly, replying in a low, deadly tone, "I'll see what the good Senator has been up to. Maybe we can lay a trap and get him to squeal."

Clint took a moment to admire his partner's deadly streak. It made a dark arousal flare within, but now was not the time.

"Hey Robin Hood, I really need some good tidings," Tony answered, breaking into Clint's thoughts.

"We know who associates with Zooker, and this person just _loves_ you," he said with sarcastic emphasis.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The name Senator Stern ringin' any bells for you?"

"…dick," came Tony's response once he connected the dots.

"That was my thought exactly," Clint replied with a twisted smirk. "Now that we told you that, what have you got? So we can give him a traditional Avenger care-package, tax-free."

The comment got a dry snort from the genius, who pulled up the three files he had narrowed it down to. "Well, I've got three names here who may or may not have leaked the secrets of my company. And any of them could have met Stern. He didn't come down to the actual sites, so maybe we have to establish another connection between them."

"Give me the names, maybe SHIELD database will bounce something up," offered Clint.

"Allen Toggart, Tristian Beck, and Miranda Hillwire. They are the only ones who fit the criteria."

"Great! More research before going to kick-butt and take names," huffed the archer, rolling his eyes at the thought of more information gathering.

Tony was subdued. "I know. But good work. Let me know when little miss spider over there wants to go after Stern. Let her know I'm first in line."

"It'll be hard to convince her, but I'll work on it," promised Clint, and then hung up.

Finally, they were getting somewhere.

Getting back to the seldom used library, Clint took a few moments just to observe his partner poring through the files. There was a contentedness that rose in him, knowing that they had promised to see where 'this' went. While the time they spent together so far hadn't been the most romantic, the rawness of it all was enough. To know that he was the one to go to bed with her, and no one else.

However, he did want to do something more 'couple-y' soon. Natasha's concern that their relationship wouldn't be the normal chocolates and roses didn't worry Clint. He couldn't care less about 'normal.' What was normal for them would be enough, something they'd both enjoy, allowing them to connect on deeper level than now. When this current mission was over, he resolved to go to the west coast and perhaps spend a day or two at the beach. Nothing fancy, but a chance to get away and pretend they weren't master assassins or spies.

"I can feel your hawk eyes on me," muttered the redhead, eyes glittering in amusement as Clint shook himself out of his thoughts.

"Such a tasty spider," teased the archer in a low tone, before saying, "Tony has three names for us."

Groaning, Natasha said in a flat voice, "Yay, more research."

"What I said."

Natasha gestured for him to sit, and he did, allowing her to speak. "Even if we research the names, I can't help but feel there's another person in this. I don't think Zooker, Stern, and another person could do it all. I think there's a fourth, or perhaps a fifth in the plot," she confided, schooling her expression to be blank as she waited for her partner to think her thought over.

Idly tapping a finger against his leg, Clint nodded. "I was actually thinking the same thing. To execute this without anyone knowing, there has to be more in on it. Although the timing confuses me."

"How?"

"Well, wouldn't it have been better to do deals and wreak havoc while we were busy trying to get the Avengers together and fighting Loki?" reasoned Clint.

Natasha hummed in agreement at the logic, mulling it over, and then suggesting, "What if they _couldn't_ execute the plan of using the Stark weapons because one of them wasn't ready? If one of the group was busy or otherwise indisposed at the time?"

"Good thinking Nat," smirked Clint. "Now, all we have to do is find the link to possible others."

"Oh joy."

* * *

Later, the Avengers assembled in a highly secured, private meeting room designed for times like these. A large round table they all sat at, still in costumed garb save for Tony and Bruce.

Steve started off. "All right, what do we know?"

"We have recovered the weapons from both sites, and they are all now relatively harmless. Tony and I can confirm that the bullets we collected have been disposed of," said Bruce. "We then went through the employee files and also looked at how much of the illegal weaponry could have been taken."

"According to files, there could be another crate of these bullets out there somewhere," Tony added sombrely. "As for the 'stationery weapons,' I didn't make any more than what was used and what was collected, so we can cross that off the list. However, there is other weaponry, such as discontinued missiles, biological welfare weapons, modified guns and such. Let me tell you, it's a lot. I also looked at the security camera logs of when those people I searched could have taken them. Because it seems I had overconfident, cocky assholes in my employ, they didn't see fit to let me know that the hard lines had been cut on each day."

"Shit," muttered Clint.

"We'll get it all Tony," Steve assured quietly.

Thor nodded in enthusiasm, "We will smite down those who dared to steal from you and pillage this world!"

Natasha spoke next. "I found out that Senator Stern was very close to Zooker and looks like to be a conspirator and also the contact for him in trading with the weapons."

"We also looked up the names you gave us, Tony, and we can cross out Tristian Beck. Got nothing on him," Clint chimed in. "Allen Toggart is a possible, especially now that you said the hard lines to the cameras were tampered with. We found that he's a techie, so he'd know about which lines to cut, _and_ it seems he was there each time the goods were meant to be destroyed."

"And," Natasha broke in, "he did a little work with you on the electrocution blades."

Tony frowned as he recalled the man. "All I can remember about him is that he had really hairy fingers. Some got zapped off when we were working with the blades, you see."

They all rolled their eyes. Trust Tony to remember something like that.

"What else?" prompted Steve.

"Miranda Hillwire we definitely think was part of the plot. She has a cousin that is married to Stern's brother, so we think they were familiar with each other. We also saw a note that she was one of your top developers before you demoted her to researcher. How did that happen?" Clint asked curiously.

"She did have it in for me since I demoted her, but I had to," reasoned the billionaire. "She was getting too bossy, and she was always mentioning dropping a few bombs over third world countries, especially ones in Africa. Not to mention, I had a more talented guy, Gary Legett, to do the work."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," quipped Thor.

"Maybe they were in cahoots," Steve thought aloud.

Tony snorted in laughter. "Cahoots. I didn't even know anyone under the age of 60 used that word anymore. Nice one Capsicle."

Steve frowned, but didn't deliver a verbal jab back. Tony had been through enough.

"_Anyway,_" Natasha broke in pointedly, "we think there's another link or two in the chain. It would not be as big an operation as what it is without another person or two to either transport, or do all the behind the scenes work."

"Like a spy?" asked the thunder god. "Like yourselves?"

Clint got hit with an alarming prospect. What if it _was_ a spy with another government agency, an agency that Stern could tap into? Such as the CIA or other alphabet agencies. In Clint's opinion, the CIA were wusses…

What if it was someone from SHIELD? Or SWORD?

He darted a look at his partner, seeing her stiffen at his alert expression, reading the intent in his eyes.

"We need to do more digging," she murmured.

"But first," cut in Tony, "I'd like to give that ass clown Stern a piece of my mind."

From the looks on everyone else's faces, he thought they all agreed with that sentiment.

* * *

Thomas Stern was resting peacefully in the ostentatious manor he called home. No wife, no kids, no burdens save for paying the maid at the end of the week.

Sitting on an overstuffed armchair, he read the evening paper, a sinister smirk on his face as he read the articles on Stark weapons being used in two attacks. Ah, to get back at the prick who had so jealously guarded the Ironman weapon. Of course, it had been a valiant attempt on his part to gain the jewel in his crown in the secret stockpiling of Stark weapons. What a fool Stark was, partying, living the high life while his company was being run by others.

No matter.

He had gained much wealth from dealing the weapons through the _right_ sources. And that was perhaps 5% of all he and his 'partners' had hidden.

It was unfortunate to have the spy kill off Zooker (he had been a phenomenal drinking buddy), but he was planning on squealing to the Secretary of Defence, which would never do.

So confident in his secrecy, Stern had forgotten to activate his security that night as he went up to bed.

A dark shadow flitted across the sickeningly manicured grounds, easily infiltrating the house and disarming everything she could. A savage gleam in her eye, Natasha made her way up to the master bedroom, sneering at the cold formality of the house. She'd prefer a homey hovel any day compared to this. She came in, locking the door behind her and moving to the window, dragging the curtains open. She turned to look in disgust at the man who, apparently, could sleep at night with little qualms for what he had done. He was snoring, in plain black pyjamas.

She had been hoping for something frilly and pink for laughs.

Raising her wrist to her mouth, she murmured into the mic, "All ready for your entrance Ironman."

Natasha heard a brief chuckle, before the rumble of propulsion systems broke the stillness of the night. She stepped back to the door, reluctantly knowing Tony would have his turn first.

A few seconds later, Ironman crashed through the window, shattering it into oblivion, engines roaring in the suit to control his speed.

"Wraaaaaahhhhh! What? Ahhh!" yelled Stern, bolting upright in bed, recognising the iconic suit instantly.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" he yelled again.

"Oh shut it," Ironman said jadedly, stepping forward and ripping off the covers, "surely you would have guessed I'd have found out it was you?"

Stern, stubborn in defiance, shouted, "Get out of here! This is private property! I'll have you arrested Stark!"

Tony popped the helmet open, looking at the Senator with hard eyes. "Like that's gonna work out well, considering they'll find out the truth about you."

"You-"

He was cut off by a dagger spinning through the air, coming close to slicing off his nose before burying itself in the wall behind him.

Natasha stepped out of the shadows for a moment to hiss, "Stop mewling like a lost kitten. Denial will not help you now. SHIELD knows."

Stern's face paled after that comment.

"Now, prick, we can do this the easy way or the hard way…what's it gonna be?" Tony said.

"I'll never talk! Never!" vowed Stern.

A few minutes later, Natasha watched in amusement as Tony played with a screaming Stern in the air. He would throw him up, catch him again, and then would spin him around before throwing him up again.

Childishly terrifying. And it wasn't hurting the senator either. Much.

A garbled squawk came from an upward direction, and Ironman came down, holding a trembling Stern in his arms. His pyjama pants looked suspiciously soiled.

"So much for 'I'll never talk,'" Tony mumbled, winking at the redhaired spy watching him. "We got a name. But have your fun, and we'll let everyone know back at the tower."

"Oh, I'll have fun all right," Natasha growled, taking out another dagger, the blade flashing in the dim light.

Stern gulped and wet himself…again.

Tony left, not feeling happy, but not feeling pity for the man either. He had made his bed. Now he had to lie in it.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I know, another long wait between updates. It's been a 10 day gap since I wrote the author's note at the top, so I'll let you all know what happened for such a long update.**

Murphy's law visited my life. I had a car crash (drunkard hit me from behind which pushed me into oncoming traffic) and had to spend a few days in the hospital. And then I had to scramble to get ready for uni this semester. And then the muse left me for a few days.

But here I am, healthy and alive, and writing for you all.

I hope you liked the chapter! Reviews would be much appreciated. They really would.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Quicker Update this time, YAY! **

**Firstly, I'd like to say thank you to all of you who wished me well after the accident. I felt so warm and fluffy I might as well have been a blanket. Secondly, thank you to the reviewers. I got much more! Thank you for that, so, so much. It really helped get the juices going for this chapter.**

**Some called for a more romantic moment between Clint and Natasha. Okay, I'll try and squeeze one in.**

**Rating: **M

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse.**

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 19**

* * *

They were gathered again around the big round table.

Natasha looked suspiciously proud of herself, and Tony had to hand it to her. She had the restraint not to kill Stern, but instead left an interesting set of cuts that spelt "murderer" in both Russian and English across his back, sure to scar him for the rest of his life.

He hated to tell her the name Stern had screamed on his ninth throw. Clint too, he knew, wouldn't like it either.

Bruce asked him, "So? Who was the other person."

Chocolate brown eyes flicked from the two agents and then settled on Bruce. Sighing, Tony answered, "His name…his name is Agent Gregory Cabree. He belongs to-"

"SHIELD," both Clint and Natasha growled in unison.

The rest of the group turned to look at the outwardly composed agents both sitting stiffly in their chairs. Only the hard look in their eyes was any indication on how it felt to know one of their own was in on the plot.

"Must be why they didn't go running around with the weapons when we formed. Cabree was probably too focussed on the Loki problem," Clint reasoned.

Thor nodded, but asked, "But if this is true…how can he be associated with these other criminals?"

"I did a little more research," Tony answered, running his fingers through his hair agitatedly. "From what I found out, Zooker and Stern knew each other through their jobs, but Cabree and Stern both went to Harvard to study. At some point, Cabree must have been introduced to Zooker. Now here's where it gets interesting." He pulled out his tech-advanced phone and pulled out a little diagram he had prepared. "Hillwire and Toggart once went out, and apparently, Toggart has still been after her all this time, and willing to do anything for her. Hillwire also happened to hook up with Cabree every now and then, and-"

"And thus completing the circle," Steve cut in.

"Well, yeah," he replied.

Natasha had stayed deadly quiet since her initial outburst. She had heard enough. Without a word to anyone, she strode out of the room, her emotions coming out of her with each hard clack of boots to the floor as she left.

The room was silent until she was well out of range.

"Aw crap," Clint groaned, closing his eyes.

"What? She's no more angry than what she is usually," the resident billionaire asked.

Shaking his head slightly, the archer explained, "She just _got_ her rage out on Stern. It means this rage will be twice as bad…habits from the program that trained her. You all better not go near her until I give the all clear." He rose and left the rest of the team staring after him.

When he was gone, Tony turned to the rest of his teammates, "And you have to wonder, it's only _now_ that they got together? They act like an old married couple!"

* * *

Making his way down to the gym, Clint paused when the elevator doors opened.

Shit. Nickelback was playing.

You could tell the fiery redhead's mood by the music she was playing. If she played Led Zepplin, she was only mildly upset. If she was moderately upset, the familiar sounds of KISS would come through the doors. If she was really angry, then he would have been hearing some kind of angry rap garbage. Nope, she was in the beyond all reason _pissed_ now if she was listening to Nickelback. Last time she had listened to Nickelback had been in the days before they had been separated into different missions, when he had to go to New Mexico.

Clint swore his heartstrings tightened at the thought of her fury.

She had a right to be angry. Hell, he was angry! He thought Cabree was a good agent of SHIELD. He knew Natasha saw it as another reason why people in general were not to be trusted.

Cursing under his breath, Clint slipped inside as the pounding rock of 'Animals' assaulted his hearing.

His partner had shed her cat suit for a tight tank top and a pair of sweatpants as she pounded the punching bag, pretty lips twisted into a snarl as her taped fingers impacted the bag. It swung from her punches, Clint noted with a little amusement. Soundlessly, he moved to her area, reaching out to hold the bag still for Natasha to work out her frustration.

The archer found his own anger faded to the background as he watched the spitfire before him pummel the punching bag. She was amazing to watch.

But he'd rather the rareness of her smile and laughter. It looked better than the fierceness.

When the tempo of Natasha's swings slowed, Clint knew it was safe to take action. He let go of the punching bag and grabbed the incoming fist, a challenging smirk on his face.

When those green eyes seared into his, he pulled her, knocking her to the ground, relishing in the growl she emitted. He crooked his fingers in a 'bring it on' motion.

Minutes later, he was glad that he had dressed comfortably. It wouldn't have been as thrilling to be flipped to the ground if he had his vest and quiver on. Gasping, he had the sense to roll out of the way as a foot came flying to where his head had been. Leaping up, he charged her, diving unexpectedly to grab Natasha's knees and pin her under him.

"Clint!" she hissed, thrashing around like a wildcat under him. "Fuck off!"

"No," he breathed into her ear. "I won't let you self-destruct. It's not good for you."

The redhead snarled, bringing her knee up as if to hit him in the groin. Clint snapped his hips up, narrowly missing the blow, but giving his lover the chance to get out of the hold. His eyes were steely as Natasha came for him, and he let her collide, only to pin her again against the mats.

Natasha seemed to realise that he could do this for as long as he wanted to, and would wait until she was exhausted, for she growled low in her throat and gave in, stopping her struggles.

"That's it," murmured Clint in a soothing voice.

Her body shuddered as the adrenaline slowly left her, the low tone of her partner easing the anger.

"I'm sorry," Natasha mumbled some time later.

"Don't be sorry, just…try not to bounce between two extremes as much…you've been doing that a bit lately," Clint said gently, letting her up and pulling her to him to lean against his side, both exhausted by the effort both to fight and to keep themselves in check. Tenderly, he took his partner's hands, making a disapproving noise at the bruising on them from her bout with the punching bag.

"I know, I know," she muttered self-depreciatingly. "I don't know where my self control has been lately."

"I think it left with Loki," Clint teased.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but smirked. "I think it's because I'm learning to open up a little more."

"True as well. C'mon Tasha, let's go relax," the archer said coaxingly.

Letting her partner help her up, the redhead bargained, "Only if you play the guitar."

"Deal."

"Hey," Natasha murmured as Clint went to turn to the door. His pause gave her just enough time to get in front of him and plant a firm kiss on his lips. He sighed into it as she pulled back. "That's for being the only one who completely understands me," she said. Part of her cursed herself for opening up so much, but then the other part of her melted when grey-blue eyes turned almost silver in undoubtable affection for her.

Clint whispered, "Anytime."

* * *

The next day saw all the Avengers feeling a little better than the day before, but twice as more determined.

Steve knew what he had to get over and done with first. With regret, he called Bethany up and apologised, but he would have to postpone their lunch date. He reassured her he was still interested, but that his 'work' schedule was fluctuating and he couldn't guarantee showing her a good time if his 'boss' suddenly called. She was surprisingly understanding, and said she would hold him to it.

Breathing a sigh of relief – because he really thought she was such a nice lady – he got dressed in his gym gear and headed down to the work out area. It was the time of the week that Natasha had promised to train with him to get him more used to her fighting style.

He was glad for the chance. It helped wake him up and soothe tension.

Getting down there, he wasn't astonished to see spy already there before him, warming up on the chin-up bars. She nodded at him as he entered, and dropped down gracefully.

"Ready?" her customary greeting.

"Never, but always optimistic," Steve replied, the same as he always did. He was all too aware how well Natasha fought.

Giving him a few minutes to warm up, Natasha began as she always did. Unexpectedly. Steve had a feeling she got a kick out of catching him off guard. He had been turning to grab his bottle of water when a flash of crimson hair was all the warning he got before a svelte frame rammed into his own. Used to the force, he rolled and popped up, game face on.

And so it began.

Punching, kicking, dodging and ducking, they practiced all of their usual moves as well as a few new ones. There was no wildness or frivolity, but control and practiced seriousness.

Time escaped the pair, sweat beginning to bead on their skin as the moved. Steve wouldn't want to think about facing Natasha when she was enraged. Even calm she was tough to keep up with!

He was so into blocking the flurry of blows the woman aimed at him, he didn't notice another teammate's presence until a familiar voice said, "So…is this one of those new things I missed out on?"

Like a switch being flipped, the two combatants broke apart to see Clint, his face unreadable, leaning against a weight machine. Steve must have missed something in the simple sentence, for Natasha lifted an eyebrow in challenge. "I practice with Steve and Thor as well as you. It's good to know the dynamics of this team. If you have a problem-"

"Which I don't," interrupted Clint, his eyes narrowed.

"-then deal with it," she finished.

The two glared at each other before Clint shrugged and moved over to a treadmill. Natasha muttered something vicious-sounding in Russian before turning back to her sparring partner. "Want a break?" she offered.

"Yeah, just for a quick drink," replied Steve. He decided to be curious and asked, "What was that all about?"

"I don't know," answered the redhead dismissively.

Steve chuckled. "You know, it was almost jealousy. The way he acted, I mean."

It made Natasha smirk. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious!" the captain protested. "He seems used to training with you that when anyone else does it, it's unnatural."

Again, Natasha seemed unconcerned. "First of all, I have never begrudged him the time to hang out and train with anyone else, and second of all, Clint Barton, jealous? Not even when he was with other women I have never seen him act jealous. He just…doesn't get that way," she explained as if to a two-year-old.

Steve thought he'd never see the day. Natasha Romanoff, naive about something. He shook his head in amusement. "Then you're the only one he's ever gotten jealous of if you've never _seen_ him jealous. He's not just annoyed he doesn't get to spar with you, he's jealous that you're sparring with _me_."

The spy canted her head to the side, considering his words. "Even if he is, he can get over it," she said definitively, and loud enough for her partner to hear across the other side of the room. She caught the glare aimed her way and only smirked at him in defiance of it.

The blonde chuckled. "If you say so…now, can you show me what I was doing wrong on that twist-punch-duck combo?"

* * *

"I've already set it up with Fury."

All the Avengers were around the table again, but casual and out of uniform, beginning the discussion about what to do about the problem.

"Set _what_ up?"

It was Bruce who asked the question, knowing that Tony would usually share what was going on with him before the rest.

"The way to get Agent Cabree without him being suspicious of course!" pronounced Tony with a flourish of his hands. "A charity ball held by Stark Enterprises for the victims or the victims families of the bombing and gunmen. It's a great cover to get some…ah, select SHIELD agents in to do some security work for such a big scale event."

"A ball?" asked Thor, confused. "How are we meant to give a ball to the grieving families? They will find no use for it but to play with it!"

Smiles were shared between them as Thor displayed the differences in culture once again.

Bruce took pity first. "Not a ball as in the one you play with. A charity ball is where everyone gets dressed up really fancy and go dancing, sometimes with a full meal, sometimes with finger food. People pay money for their spot, and any additional donations as well as that base fee go to a specific charity. In this case, the money will go to the families of the victims."

"Ah, now I see. On Asguard, we have the King's Celebratory, not this 'ball,'" the thunder god said in sudden understanding.

Steve turned his attention back to Tony. "How will this work?"

Tony's smile was so brilliant – and so startling after the sombre mood he had sported yesterday – that Clint and Natasha exchanged a significant look. Uh oh. Tony was way too happy for a simple ball.

"Agent Cabree will be part of a _selected_ group of agents from SHIELD in addition to my usual security measures. There will be eight. Five will be either on the perimeter or disguised as workers. The other three will actually be attending the ball. Cabree will be one, and as for the other two…these amazing people right here, Black Widow and Hawkeye!" Tony said excitedly.

Natasha's eyes widened and Clint sighed and laid his head on the desk, moaning, "Monkey suit. You want to get me in a freakin' suit."

"Shut up about the suit, I have to buy a dress! A nice one!" hissed the redhead, turning a stony glare on the richest one of the Avengers. "I trust your interference is to thank for that placement?"

"Yep!" Tony replied unrepentantly.

"And Fury said he wants us to 'mingle?'" Clint asked suspiciously.

The genius shrugged. "Yeah. He mumbled something about Romanoff being the bait."

Natasha groaned. She knew what Fury wanted her to do with those simple words, but it didn't mean she had to like it. "Did he say anything else?" she asked apprehensively.

Tony's grin got bigger. "Yes, only that Cabree's favourite colour was black."

Natasha rolled her eyes. Black dress. Got it.

"When is it?" asked Bruce, mentally cringing at the thought of being there. He could _not_ dance, and he knew Tony would find some way to make him dance.

"A week. So you all better get on with the suit fittings, dress fittings and such, while _I _have to make myself look resplendent and make sure there's enough money to go around," Tony replied. Before either assassin could make a move towards him, he dashed out of the room.

"Coward," muttered Clint.

Thor was in high spirits in contrast to the rest of the group. "A mighty celebration! Indeed, I wish to observe this human ritual 'charity ball.'" He chortled at the thought. "And what is this monkey suit Barton speaks of?"

"A torture device," answered Clint without any hesitation. Steve choked and Thor's expression morphed into one of horror.

Bruce shot a frown the archer's way, but again answered Thor. "Clint's just being a pain. It isn't a monkey suit. It is a suit. Usually pants, a button up shirt, tie, and blazer. It all looks very formal and professional. By the sounds of it, Tony is going to have people come to the Tower and fit us for them. There's no need for melodrama." His eyes slid to the scowling man next to the equally scowling woman, pointing the sentence at them.

"So…wearing these clothes does not cause one pain?" asked Thor, eyes flicking uncertainly from Bruce to Clint and back again.

"No!" exclaimed the scientist, exasperated.

The thunder god still looked a little pensive, but he seemed to receive the words.

"I have never even _worn_ a formal style suit," Steve said, looking apprehensive at the thought of the ball.

"Lucky," pouted Clint.

Natasha glared at him, saying lowly, "Would you grow up? It's not going to kill you to wear it for one night. At least you don't have to wear a dress. Harder to hide a gun in one of those than in a suit."

Rare in his petulancy, Clint argued, "But at least you can make a thigh holster look like lingerie or something, which people are gonna find sexy. But if someone sees a rather big bulge at the back or pocket, most suspicious people rarely think 'loaded wallet.' And if it's in the front trouser pocket, there's going to be some serious misinterpretation there."

"Like, 'happy to see me' interpretation?" asked Natasha nonchalantly.

"We are still here, guys," Steve cut in, blushing at Natasha's words.

"And?"

The one word was spoken so coldly and dangerously, the remaining three men promptly rose and fled the meeting room. Once the door closed, Clint laughed, "I love the way you clear a room."

They smiled at each other, before the grins faded.

"A ball. A freaking _ball_. Why couldn't we be one of the ones on the perimeter? You know once Cabree knows we're on to him that he'll make a run for it. And then we can have some fun reminding him just why we both got promotions ahead of him. But no, I have to get stuffed into some stuffy suit and," here Clint shuddered, "mingle with all of the rich people Tony is no doubt going to invite."

"You're forgetting something."

"What?"

"We've done missions like this before," reminded Natasha. While she was displeased by the fact, she knew better than to keep bemoaning it. "You've done it before, you can do it again."

"Doesn't make me like it any more," replied the archer softly.

Sighing, Natasha sarcastically asked, "What do you want me to do? Kiss it and make it better?"

A wicked glint flickered in grey eyes. "Actually, yeah, that'd be nice."

Green eyes widened incredulously. "Presumptuous of you."

Clint smirked, "Yeah, I know."

Deciding to shock her lover a little, the redhead got up and slid gracefully into his lap, murmuring playfully, "Where does it hurt?"

Quickly getting over his astonishment, the archer replied, "Here," and touched two fingers to his lips. A small smile was his gift seconds before plump, warm lips brushed against his own and drew back. "Better?" came a breathy voice.

"Nope. Might need a bit more," he said, unable to hide his grin.

They connected once more, tasting, pressing, caressing, before their liplock became more heated. When Natasha eventually pulled away, it was for desperate air and to ask, "Better yet?"

"Not yet."

"Well then," an intensity and hunger well known to Clint taking over her countenance, "we might have to navigate somewhere else to get some proper TLC, hmm?" she purred.

"I think the bedroom would be agreeable."

"I think so too."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you all liked the flirtation in this chapter. I really tried to get some more romantic things in before the ball and the completion of the mission. **

**Please review! You all did such a fantastic job last week, a really commendable effort. Again, thank you all so very much. **

**Now here's some incentive. Whoever is the 620****th**** reviewer will get the prize of a one-shot fic from me. If the 620****th**** reviewer is a 'guest', then the next person who is registered with ffn will get the prize. I can do Avengers, Harry Potter, Hurt Locker, Janet Evanovich, and Transformers. **


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I KNOW! IT'S BEEN TWO WEEKS! I'm so sorry. I've had so much stuff going on lately that I couldn't get it out any sooner. **

**But, to make up for it, I've made this a nice long chapter (longest one to date) for you all to enjoy. So I invite you to enjoy the rollercoaster that is chapter 19. It's the Ball chapter. Do they get Cabree? Does Thor embarrass the Avengers? Find out today!**

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **Violence and blood and adult situations. **EXTRA WARNING for mention of castration and BW&H pretending to be psycho's. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse.**

* * *

**No Time For Regrets – Chapter 20**

* * *

**NICK FURY POV**

The weight of the invitation card was light in my hands as I turned it over, thinking.

This was like any other op done at any fancy event. So why was it weighing so heavily on my mind? There were bigger pains I had in my ass. This should be nothing but a blip on the radar for me it was so routinely staged.

Perhaps it was because it looked so simple I was suspicious. True, I did suggest the idea to Stark, and he had agreed, but doubt crept in.

Would Romanoff be able to pull this off as convincingly as she had done every other time regardless of her current relationship status with Barton? I sure as hell hoped so. For all intents and purposes, Agent Cabree had gotten into this shit all by himself. I wasn't going to help him out of it. And to attack the members of the Avengers when they were so closely affiliated with SHIELD was just plain idiotic. I would have fired the guy if not for the fact I knew Stark and Barton would want to get a piece of him.

The paperwork for Cabree's 'unfortunate accident' in his line of work was already completed and actually waiting for the event to happen. It was a guarantee as far as I was concerned. SHIELD had no place for traitors.

I am looking forward to this ball though. I'll be there, hidden, watching. To not only make sure Cabree is taken care of, but to see how Clint and Natasha are working out.

I'm impressed with them.

When they came back to the helicarrier, I expected to see more signs of intimacy between them. I had suspected it. But they reminded me why they're among my best agents. No one else but I noticed the difference between them.

It was only two tiny giveaways that I noticed.

One, they stood a bit closer together than their usual friendly distance.

Two, Romanoff walked a bit differently, her feet a bit further apart and hips swinging a little more, while Barton's walk had a hint of a proud swagger.

It was enough for me to conclude that they're now a couple.

Honestly, I don't care. They can do whatever the hell they want in their own time, but on SHIELD's time, they better be on top performance.

It's another reason why I'm doubting this ball idea. Maybe a harder test would be more telling about their abilities…

No. It'll be fine.

At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

* * *

**NORMAL POV**

Pepper sighed, smoothing down the front of her dress in nervousness once more.

The ball tonight had her stomach up in knots for many reasons, chief among them was that it was a cover for capturing a SHIELD agent gone rogue. While she was glad for the team that they would be solving the puzzle of the dangerous Stark weapons, the fact that they were doing this in such a public place made her want to throw up. More innocent people could get hurt if this Cabree guy decided to just open fire in the middle of the dance floor.

Not only that, but would the money raised for this event be enough compensation for the victims of the bombing and gunmen? Public opinion of Stark Industries had to be raised, and she hoped this would be the event to do it. It couldn't be marred by anything in order to be effective.

If nothing horrible could happen, maybe she could have a nice, semi-normal night with Tony.

Sighing, steeling herself for the unexpected (as she had begun to do ever since the Avengers had gotten together), Pepper left the dressing room and saw Tony was adjusting his tie in the reflection of the glass. He turned as she came to him and he grinned wolfishly at her.

"You, my dear Miss Potts, look ravishing," he said, voice deepening slightly.

"It's nothing much," Pepper said, shrugging. Sometimes it amazed her that Tony, who had been with gorgeous models and pretty bimbos would think her, plain Pepper Potts, the most beautiful of the lot.

Tony finished with his tie, grasped her shoulders and drew her in for a heated kiss. "You're beautiful, just accept it. Though I have to admit, I never thought that shade of green could look so good on you."

"You only say that because you're used to seeing me in blue, white, and black most of the time."

"Except for that wonderful and colourful range of lingerie that you have…" Tony drew out salaciously, making his partner flush in embarrassment.

"Tony!" she hissed.

The billionaire merely smiled back at her. He loved teasing her about that. Loved that her reactions were all his. He held out an arm and asked, "Well my lady? Shall we depart?"

"Yes. We'll be a bit late already as it is, and we need to sort out the contributions and-" Pepper's rant was cut off by another quick kiss from her lover.

"Relax!" he urged.

"It's difficult!" she exclaimed.

Tony's face turned a bit more tender and he stroked her cheek in comfort. "I know it is. But it's really important that none of us give anything away tonight…including you. Try and relax."

Expelling a calming breath, Pepper leaned into her lover's touch for a moment before pulling back. "Okay. Let's make the most of it."

"Let's. And let's go get Brucie! I hope he liked the tie I got for him."

Pepper rolled her eyes. From Tony's tone, it sounded like a gag gift, not a tie. They met up with the scientist on his 'Hulk-proof' floor. Upon seeing Bruce's tie, the strawberry blonde struggled to keep a laugh in. Trust Tony to get Bruce a luridly coloured tie in purple and lime green. From the look on Bruce's face, he only suffered through the tie for Tony's sake.

"When are the others coming?" Bruce asked.

"Clint and Natasha are making their own entrances, and Steve and Thor are arriving together. Speaking of which, I've got a surprise for strong arm boy when all this mess of over and done with," said Tony. "I've invited the lovely Dr. Jane Foster to Stark Industries to share her work and possibly open up a new branch of astral science for me. Of course, the fact that Thor is here has something to do with it."

"He'll be pleased," agreed Bruce. "When he gets started on her, he won't stop!"

Pepper smiled. "It'll be good for him to see her again."

"It will be. Now, I believe, Miss Potts, you were saying we were late?"

* * *

Steve tugged at the collar of the shirt underneath his tuxedo. It was uncomfortable compared to the soft plaid shirts he usually wore. Not even his Captain America suit had been this bad around the neck!

Still, he had to admit, he and Thor looked pretty good. Their suits had been professionally tailored and fit them perfectly. The only difference in terms of colour between them was their ties. Thor's was a bright blue, while his own was a deep vermillion. Tickets in hand, he guided the thunder god towards the tall doors of the ballroom Tony had hired out. He couldn't remember the name of the place, only that it was very grand, with gilded mirrors lining the wide hallway filled with people – ladies in long dresses, men in a range of tuxedoes. If it was overwhelming for him, he wondered how Thor was feeling. The longer-haired man was still quiet, gaping at everything.

Getting in line, Steve asked quietly, "All good man?"

Thor nodded, "I am. Just…in awe. It is very different to Asgard."

"I'm sure," replied Steve, handing over their tickets to the snooty looking man at the door who checked them over before returning them, checking their names off the list. The rumble of people chattering came through the door, and hit them full force when they were opened.

"Holy Moses," murmured Steve quietly as they walked in. He couldn't decide where to look first.

The ceilings felt so high, covered in a depiction of the sky with white fluffy clouds, painted in the Michael-Angelo style. There were marble columns holding up the building, the walls painted ivory to match, with antique pictures of dancing between each column. There were circular tables and chairs, covered in white and accented with black, presumably to acknowledge that this was a charity ball for victims of a horrible happening. A dance floor was in the middle of the tables, a large music station set up at one end – a soft jazz emanated from the speakers, perfect for the atmosphere.

"This is all very grand," said Thor in wonderment, grinning at the painting. "What majesty! I never thought humans were capable of it!"

"It's pretty amazing," agreed the other blonde, looking around at the people, trying to find one of the other team members.

He quickly spotted an uncomfortable looking Bruce near the bar, and he and Thor made their way over.

"Hey," the scientist greeted morosely, swilling lemonade in a tumbler.

Thor immediately picked up on his distress. "What is the matter, friend Bruce?"

Sighing, he gestured to a haughty looking woman on the other side of the floor, who was wearing a canary yellow dress that looked hideous on her. "She's asked me to her table at least four times now. Ever since Tony introduced me to the group she was in, she's been after me, and she's getting more forceful each time. I don't want to be cruel, but-"

"Pretend you're gay," a new voice broke in.

The three turned to see the rare sight of Natasha Romanoff in a formal dress.

The redhead's eyes sparkled in amusement as Bruce smirked at her, and Steve and Thor's jaws dropped. She could understand the shock. She hardly ever got this dressed up. Thanks to Tony sparing no expense, she had the most beautiful black dress she had ever worn. It was a plain, simple black, but a rectangular crystal clasp cinched the material in at the waist, showing her natural hourglass figure. It was strapless and flowed easily to the floor. A thigh high slit showed creamy skin whenever she moved. From the front, it was simple. But from the back, the touches of elegance mixed with risqué. From her shoulder blades to her hips it was all lace in a pattern depicting a spider, custom made for her only.

But Natasha thought the best feature was the two hidden knife pockets the seamstresses had made especially for her.

Her crimson hair was loose and her eyes were rimmed with black liner, the smoky look showing off her jade green eyes. Simple and practical jewellery adorned her ears, neck, and wrist.

Bruce recovered the easiest of the three. "You look great. But what the _heck_ did you mean, pretend that I'm gay? I'm not!"

"That's why it's called _pretend_," enunciated Natasha, mentioning to the bartender for some champagne. "You've got a few teammates. Use them." She pointed to Thor and Steve.

The scientist looked at his teammates, stricken. "No. I don't think I can even make it up."

"Well, you better think of something else, because here she comes," Steve said quietly, looking very uncomfortable at the prospect Natasha was talking about. Miss Canary was closing in fast on Bruce.

Bruce bit his lower lip as she approached. How could this woman, who he didn't even know, be this obsessive in such a short time?

"Dr. Banner," she said lowly as she reached them. Her alluring smile could only be called that if you were another shark. "I simply demand that you join my party. I can…make it worth your while."

Bruce saw the naked determination on her face, fought not to gag, and knew there was only one thing for it. He sidled up to Thor and rested a hand semi-possessively on the thunder gods. It made him sick to know he had to resort to this, but he played it up. "I must refuse. I have _much_ better company."

The canary looked like she swallowed a lemon as Bruce smiled up at Thor.

Thor, being completely oblivious to most of human social behaviour, merely saw his friend smiling at him and smiled widely back, drawing him in for a hug. He enjoyed bestowing attention on his brave teammates.

"Ah, yes…well…I will leave you then," the woman said, managing to look slightly disgusted and bewildered at the same time, before she fled back to her little group, looking too embarrassed to mention Bruce.

Natasha and Steve were hiding chuckles as Bruce struggled to get out of the blonde's hug. "Nice acting Banner," the redhead said teasingly.

"Oh shut up," he muttered mutinously back at her, finally freeing himself from Thor. "It worked, but now everyone in here is going to think I'm freaking gay! There's nothing wrong with it if people are, but I prefer to be thought of as straight like I am!"

"Count yourself lucky you weren't gentlemanly enough to be roped in with them. Her lot look a bit brainless if you ask me," smirked Natasha.

Steve shook his head in bemusement. "Let's go sit down. Might be safer than being fresh meat out in the open."

"I like your strategy," Bruce agreed, grabbing another drink. "Tony and Pepper are sitting with us at this table over there."

As they made their way over, Thor asked Natasha, "When will Clint be here? I've been meaning to ask him if a charity ball is a fit place for more belching contests."

The assassin snorted with laughter at the random question. "He'll be here soon. I think. He was very vague about when he'd arrive. As for the whole burping thing, I have to burst your bubble Thor. Burping, and loud and long ones at that, are really frowned upon here, because there are so many from the high society, not to mention actors and actresses, big money CEO's of other companies, that sort of thing. You and Clint burping at this wouldn't reflect well on Tony…and we have to make Tony look good tonight."

"It's okay, I have an insurance policy just in case," Tony piped up, he and Pepper coming from behind to join the group. "I'll just say Thor is a very sheltered country bumpkin."

Thor laughed, while the others smirked.

When they all reached the table, Natasha quickly checked the seats and frowned when she saw there was eight. Seats were specially allocated for this event, and so she wondered who was the eighth person sitting with them. Familiar nasally laughter reached her ears, and she quickly hid all traces of emotion as she turned around.

Agent Gregory Cabree of SHIELD. Taller than Clint, but reed-thin and wiry. Specialty in bladed weapons. Brown hair and eyes, caucasian. A complete and utter prick.

Clint was next to him, smirking as if he had just told an amusing joke.

Natasha took a moment just to admire her lover. The sight of him warmed her soul. For all of his protests about wearing a tux, he looked _so_ good…so much so that if they weren't on a mission she'd be tempted to jump him. The tailor made suit fit him perfectly, and he wore a silver shirt beneath, accented by a pale blue tie. Both colours complemented his eyes.

Knowing now was the time to act, the redhead stepped forward and purred, "Agent Barton…Greg."

Clint hid his predatory grin. She was taking the initiative early.

And damn if she didn't look gorgeous. Tempting. If this section of the mission went well, the archer knew he'd have great pleasure in slowly peeling that dress off to reveal the perfection beneath. That knowledge made the fact that Natasha had to tempt Cabree for the take down much easier to deal with.

Cabree, meanwhile, smiled broadly at her. "Natasha Romanoff. For an agent, you clean up nice." He grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips and kissed it.

'_Prick!'_ the assassin swore in her head, masking her disgust as awe as Cabree pulled away. "Well, it's all for this cause. What's Fury got you doing here tonight?"

"Added protection for you lot. There's another three outside the ballroom and two are waiters. Fury also said that Barton and I have to dance with you to make sure no one suspects what capacity we're all in tonight," he murmured to her. He then raked his eyes up and down her black-clad form, lingering on her chest area.

Unable to hide the scowl this time, Natasha snapped, "Eyes up here Greg."

The bastard at least had the grace to look apologetic. "My apologies. Black is my favourite, and you wear it so well."

"Yes, I do. Now let's sit. I'm sure Tony has some announcement or other to make."

The Avengers sat with the snake in their midst as bells chimed around the room, signalling the guests to go to their seats in preparation of the dinner and dancing that was to follow. Tony left the table once all were seated and headed to the middle of the dance floor, microphone in hand.

His countenance was less jolly than it was before as he began to speak.

"Good evening everyone. I am so, so incredibly pleased that you all have shown up here tonight. Have a look around. We're happy. We're healthy. And some of us have more money than some countries do. It can be hard not to keep in touch with reality." He paused, sensing that all the gazes were sincere. "Reality hit me hard in the past few weeks. Because of my past experimentations in weapons lore, over fifty lives have been lost, and many more had been injured. I didn't place that bomb, or shoot that weapon. But someone stole from me. They betrayed my trust. However, that doesn't mean that I will shirk my responsibility in this matter, as I have done many times before. And for the pain and suffering that the victims and the victims' families have suffered, I am putting forward fifty," he took another pause and then said, "million to be split between them all."

Gasps and applause filled the air.

That was a lot of money to part with.

"Furthermore," Tony added, his voice even graver. "I promise to find who stole from me and make sure they no longer use the weapons. I will destroy, once and for all, the shame of my work!"

More applause echoed around the room, and Tony let it die out. "And now I ask, who is with me? Who will give their support to these families? Into re-building the university? Any surplus donations for this cause are going to be channelled into R&D for security and will also be fed into other worthy charities. I have more than enough to cover and expenses, but come on New York! We are the elite. We have the means to give up our money for the greater good. We're not going to miss money for long, not like other people, the struggling people do. I'll leave that for your consideration." His tone was serious and yet passionate about what he talked about, and it held his audience. "But for now, let us enjoy the night of socialising, dinner, and dancing, thanking the greater universe for the fact that it wasn't us that was affected."

Again, applause thundered around the grand room as Tony found his way back to his seat. It had felt good to get that all off his chest, to be proactive. To do nothing about the bombings and killings would have been the worst guilt – now, he was on the way to absolution. As he sat down, Pepper took his hand and squeezed it, and he squeezed back. He didn't know what he'd do without her.

Looking around at his teammates (and purposely avoiding Cabree's eyes), he saw a new found respect. For him! The joker, the pain in the ass he was at times, and they respected him more. It touched his heart and he smiled at them all. "What did you all think?"

"Worth putting on a penguin outfit for," Clint said, no hesitation at all. It was definitely worth it.

"If you ever get tired of being CEO, you can always be a motivational speaker," quipped Bruce.

Tony snorted a laugh, "Yeah, right, that would be me desperate, not motivational."

"It's a nice event you got here Stark," Cabree said slowly, breaking the levity that had started to rise. "But money is never the answer. There's always going to be someone putting a monkey wrench in the plans."

Natasha and Clint fought not to reached for their guns then and there to shoot the bastard, the traitor, speaking from personal experience.

Tony, however, handled it with his usual aplomb. "So what you're telling me is that you, as an agent, would be fine without money? Because that's never the answer right? Let me know how you feel about that when I withdraw funding from SHIELD, which helps you get the best in Kevlar vests and the best defence shields around the helicarrier and the N-70 planes I'm producing." Smirking, he lifted up a glass of champagne and made a mock toast, "Good luck with that, asshole."

All glares landed on Cabree, and he shrugged, stubbornly quiet, knowing he couldn't do or say anything to let them know he was in on the plot. After a few more moments of glaring, he stood and said stiffly, "I will move. I cannot provide security with you all against me."

"Good. Enjoy yourself…away from me," the quick-talking genius murmured.

Once the idiot was out of earshot, the rest of the table broke into grins.

"Nice work," Steve said admirably.

"I'm surprised you restrained yourself…you could have done a lot worse," Pepper said, proud that Tony had reined himself in a little.

"Yeah, things would have gotten a lot worse if these two," Bruce pointed to Clint and Natasha, "blew the guy away. I saw you two tense."

Natasha nodded in an affirmative, while Clint made a comment about how Cabree was lucky they had to wait. She, however, was thinking. If Cabree was too unreceptive to her advances, the plan wasn't going to work, and Tony's comment might of just done that. She stood and made her way over to Cabree, making sure her expression was just the right mix of annoyance and apology.

He looked up at her from his new table. "Yeah, Romanoff?"

Slowly, the redhead leaned down, making sure he got a good view of her chest and whispered in his ear, "I came to say I'm with you…you were so right…but I have to look like part of the team, so I went with the response of the table." She shook her hair, making the perfume she sprayed in it swirl around her, drawing Greg's attention. "I also wanted to ask…save a dance for me later? When I get the chance to get away."

When Natasha looked up, a sense of victory bloomed within her. His eyes were glassy and his lips parted, and he gulped as he answered her. "Sure. I had to anyway."

"Good," she whispered, forcing her voice to sound husky, and swung her hips as she walked away.

Got him. Hook, line, and sinker.

Clint raised an eyebrow at her in question, and she muttered, "Had to make sure he was still interested."

"If you didn't convince him with that act, I'd be surprised."

Their conversation went unnoticed by their friends as the entrees arrived at their table. Natasha looked up from the ravioli to see that her lover's face was carefully blank, but his eyes were darkened with desire. A bolt of heat went to the apex of her thighs and she had to control her breathing. What this man could do to her with just a look! Playing it cool, she merely smiled and turned to her food.

Her partner didn't stop there though. He leaned towards her ear and whispered, "I like that dress you know. I'm gonna like it even better taking it off you and leaving it on the floor later tonight if all goes well."

Natasha fought not to wiggle against her damp panties, and turned the teasing on Clint. "I hope you don't like that tie. Chances are I'll be ripping it off you later."

A low, rumbled groan echoed from her lover's lips, and he pulled away to maintain their 'strictly work partners' facade.

The entrees, and then the mains, passed without incident, with Clint and Natasha making sure not to take the conversation down a more seductive road. They participated in the others conversation, all of them helping Thor with etiquette and understanding of a high class function. No one even tried to understand when Bruce and Tony got to talking about some sort of energy saving cars in R&D. Steve surprised them all by actually understanding a lot of the customs in the ballroom.

"What? Things haven't changed too much from the 1940's. My friend Bucky took me to a dance once to see if we could both score. I learnt a lot about proper behaviour that night," the blonde explained.

"True, you do act like the perfect gentleman," Natasha pointed out.

Steve shrugged. "My mother drilled it into me as well. Said if nothing else, she'd give me manners if she couldn't support me with money."

Dessert came and went, the whole meal being satisfying for all. An announcer stepped up to the music booth and boomed into the microphone, "And now ladies and gentlemen, let us engage in the elegance and poise of dancing! Tony Stark and his partner, Pepper Potts, will lead us off tonight."

Pepper smiled up at Tony as he stood, and with a silly flourish, held his hand out to her. She accepted, and they began to glide around the floor as the sound of strings filled the air. Other couples rose and joined them.

"Tony looks like he'd rather be dancing to country western songs than this," Clint snickered.

Bruce grimaced. "I'd take this over country, any day."

"I agree with Bruce. This music has such an elegance to it. It reminds me of the flutenviye players on Asgard," Thor piped in, swaying with the melody.

Steve smiled at Tony's expression. It was quite funny, trying to see him balancing the happy face he put on for Pepper, and the dislike of the formal music.

Sliding his eyes to his friend, he asked, "Hey Natasha, would you like to dance?"

The spy looked a little startled, but then Steve flicked his eyes to the table where Cabree sat, reminding her of the fact she had to dance with him soon. She nodded, and Steve took her hand and led her to the centre of the dance floor.

The redhead was surprised as her teammate began to guide her around the floor in time with the music. She smirked. "A hidden talent I see."

Steve blushed. "I actually took the time to practice the old dances I knew this week so I wouldn't stuff up."

"It's paid off," Natasha complimented, actually enjoying herself. Steve was a support, a friend. She was comfortable with him.

Steve's voice quietened as he spun her around and murmured, "I'd feel better dancing if I didn't feel Clint's eyes digging into me."

Natasha made a derisive sound. "Now you're being silly."

"I'm serious! I've felt his stare since the moment I put my hand on your waist," Steve protested. "Are you really that blind to the fact that he's a little jealous?"

Natasha was quiet. She never had _anyone_ be jealous over her before. Jealous over her abilities, yes, but never over the fact that she was dancing with another person.

Then again, no one had ever cared about her as much as Clint did. He made her feel so wanted and special, made her feel like an equal to him. She quickly took a look at her lover, and was surprised to see his face grim as he watched her and Steve.

"Even if he is, he shouldn't be," Natasha eventually replied, equally quiet.

Steve smiled at her and said, "He probably can't help it. You've been through a lot together and he wants to protect you. And he's probably feeling a little threatened by me – though I don't know why."

"As I said, he shouldn't be. He…he's the only one I-" Natasha stopped herself, feeling like she had said too much.

She looked into her friend's eyes to see understanding. "But does he know that? Sure, you've been officially together for the past few weeks, and I think emotionally invested in each other for at least a few years, but have you ever said the words?"

She didn't need to reply. He could see it in her eyes that she and Clint hadn't really, truly discussed their deepest feelings for fear of their relationship being destroyed by it.

Steve gave her a quick squeeze and murmured, "Go for it. When this weapons thing is over."

"I will," promised Natasha.

A light tap on her shoulder broke the moment. The quiet, pleasant voice of Bruce asked, "May I cut in?"

Deciding to be graceful, Natasha nodded and gave a little curtsey to Steve, who bowed back. She then nodded to Bruce as he took up her hands. The tempo of the music changed, quickening slightly, a more Latin feel coming to it. Bruce adapted to it and moved accordingly. They danced well together, although not as comfortably as Steve did with Natasha. When that song ended, and a 50's swing song came on, Thor took over. Natasha had to help him with some of the steps, but it was fun nevertheless. Tony intercepted her for a Beatles song, and actually behaved himself, while telling amusing jokes about other guests in the spy's ear. She kept herself from laughing and just smirked.

All the while, Clint watched, refusing offers from other ladies to dance. He couldn't keep his eyes off the redheaded beauty in the middle of the floor. He may have been biased, but she was the most stunning woman on the floor. His archer's eyes focussed on her, making Tasha the centre of his own world.

He had her in the proverbial crosshairs, and he couldn't do anything about it. It was too public, and there was a greater purpose here tonight.

Pepper's quiet voice interrupted his brooding. "Come and dance with me. Cabree's staring to pay attention to you."

'_Shit,'_ thought Clint, realising he'd been too overt. He plastered on a boyish grin and stood, leading Pepper to the dance floor. They quietly talked about inconsequential things, but it got the high-stung archer to relax a little.

When the song began to wind down, Pepper said, "Here's your chance. Have a quick dance with her before she has to dance with him."

Clint mouthed a quick 'thank you,' and politely cut in for the next song. The young man dancing with his partner relinquished her easily and he couldn't help but draw her close, breathing in her familiar scent.

"Missed me?" Natasha teased.

"You have no fucking idea," he replied, putting a more appropriate distance between them, knowing they were being watched.

The music suddenly turned into a sultry tango.

The two agents raised an eyebrow at each other in question, before they assumed the position. This allowed them a legitimate reason to get a bit closer to the other.

"I want to speak in Russian…Cabree doesn't know it," Natasha said as they began to move.

"Good," Clint replied easily in her native language, "it means I can speak freely. I've wanted to dance the Tango with you ever since that third mission in Paris."

"Really?" she purred as the changed directions, their movement smooth, professional. The swell in the music prompted them to make a quick move, Natasha placing a foot between Clint's legs and leaning back, supported by her partner as he followed and leaned above her, replying, "Yes. The way you move is inspiring."

They resumed the slow, seductive walk around the floor, looking into each other's eyes. Natasha was then spun around so her back was plastered to Clint's front, moving like that for a few steps before retreating in a teasing move, forcing him to follow.

"Temptress," Clint purred.

"Look who's talking," retorted the redhead swiftly.

They felt the crescendo, and they danced accordingly with more difficult steps, until the end came, with Natasha spinning out and then in again to be dipped low over Clint's knee, where their foreheads touched.

They were so close…

Applause broke them from their own little world they had slipped into from the course of the dance. They instantly separated, and they nodded to the crowd and the other dancers.

Cabree came up to Natasha after the applause died down and different music emanated out of the speakers. He held his hand out for the next dance, which she took, fake excitement shining out of her eyes, while Clint turned and stiffly made his way back to the table.

The rest of the group had watched the whole thing, and they saw the passion between the two, no matter how much they tried to hide it.

"They've got it _so_ bad for each other," Bruce said.

"I'm surprised he doesn't have to hide a hard on after that," joked Tony, only to have Bruce and Pepper smack the back of his head in admonishment. "Killjoy," he muttered.

Clint came back and sat, purposefully ignoring the knowingly looks aimed at him. It was more important to watch Cabree. He was an agent of SHIELD, after all, and could be slippery to catch if he tried to run. And if he got away, he would disappear, there would be no doubt about that. The other five agents here tonight knew that he was a wanted man, and they would stop him.

The time was coming for confrontation soon, he could feel it. His bow string fingers twitched and he regretted the fact he couldn't fit his bow in his suit somewhere. It was just too big to hide.

Natasha, meanwhile, wanted to deck the idiot she was dancing with. If his hands slid down towards her ass one more time…

Fucker. They just did.

"Greg," she whined petulantly, "not here, where everyone can see…Fury won't like it."

Cabree seemed to realise what he was doing then and made sure his hands behaved, although his eyes did a lot of roaming. Although, he did pay attention to his surroundings, showing he was going to be a tough nut to crack.

After another three numbers, Natasha felt the time was right. The atmosphere of the room began to feel languid instead of energetic, showing people were less likely to notice anything suspicious. She used one of her most effective weapons – her voice – and murmured huskily, "You know, I'm sure no one will notice if we go and…get some air."

Cabree's eyes shone with lust, and the ex-Russian spy felt the need to scrub his gaze off her. She fought the bile in her throat and led the way to the back of the ballroom, past the restrooms and onto a balconette that had stairs leading down to an alleyway.

Once there, she leaned in the most alluring position she knew against the railing, crossing her legs at the ankle to show her skin. When her opponent's eyes dropped there, she knew most of his attention was on her now, and any reaction to anything would be diminished. It didn't make him any less dangerous – but the plus side was that she was just as lethal.

"Been interested a while, Greg?" Natasha asked lowly.

"A bit. You're one of the hottest agents at SHIELD," he replied, not seeing the flash of anger in the woman's eyes. He was too focused on that stretch of creamy, smooth leg exposed.

"Ever wanted a taste?"

The question was so innocently posed that Cabree felt like it was his lucky day! He hadn't wanted to go to this shitty ball, but now had provided a golden opportunity. By the look on her face as she looked him up and down, it looked like he was getting laid tonight! HA!

"Yes. Such a pretty mouth…more than a few SHIELD guys have had fantasies of your lips wrapped around their-"

"I might be inviting, but it doesn't mean you can talk shit," Natasha snapped, her tone switching quickly to icy. Cabree looked taken aback, so she crooked her fingers. "Come on. Just have a little taste…" she murmured, more calm, and tipped her head back to show the elegant line of her neck. The temptation was too much for Cabree, and he pressed himself against her, his mouth bumping against her chin clumsily before sliding sloppily to her collarbone.

While her prey was distracted, Natasha unclipped an earring, holding the pin out. It would administer a high dose of sedative. Now, for Clint to show up…

Ah, there he was, stealthily stalking down the hallway, murder in his eyes. A gun was in his hands, controlled and steady. Not his usual weapon, but he knew how to use it well.

Cabree didn't even have the chance to flee as the gun was pressed to his forehead and Hawkeye said menacingly, "Take your filthy mouth off of her and turn around, or I'll blow your nuts off."

The wiry man pulled back, realisation dawning instantly. "You set me up."

Natasha shrugged. It wasn't her fault he was so stupid to think she would desire him.

Spitting on the ground, Cabree turned and hissed, "Jealous?"

Quicker than he could blink, Cabree found himself on the ground, clutching his forehead where the gun had slammed into it. "Fucker! That hurt," he hissed.

"No, really?" Clint asked sarcastically. "And that's just the beginning you worthless sack of shit."

Natasha took the opportunity to inject the sedative from her earring into Cabree's neck while Clint held him down. He was snarling and throwing threats in their faces, but it didn't bother the agents. They had faced Loki. One of their own threatening to kill them wasn't exactly a big deal. The sedative was fast acting, and the rogue agent slowed his struggles, although his mouth still ran with foul language. They cuffed him tightly and guarded him, one each side of him.

Tony came out then, looking victorious. "Nice work you two. One of the other agents told me you got him."

"Too easy," said Clint.

Cabree had quietened when Tony came out, and he refused to look at him.

The billionaire grabbed the side of the agent's face roughly, forcing them to lock eyes. "Why'd you screw me over?" he asked quietly.

He didn't respond.

Tony grimaced and asked again, "Why did you and your little group of wannabes want to bring me down?"

Again, Cabree didn't answer.

Tony finally had enough, and brought his knee up, striking Cabree hard under the chin. He finally made a noise, a low grunt of pain as he accidentally bit his tongue. Tony leaned down and said conversationally, "You know what money is great for? Making sure people like you not exist. I have the means to fund your downfall as well as the rest of them. Senator Stern…he's going to be a fun one when I eventually go to the press about this little group of yours. What about the others? Squeal on them and I make sure your ending isn't too painful."

Cabree just smirked.

Natasha shook her head at Tony. "He's a SHIELD agent. He's not going to give anything up."

"That's right!" spat Cabree.

The redhead looked at Clint, who nodded, and then she stared down at him and pulled out a knife from the hidden pockets in her dress. She ran a finger along the blade to test its sharpness, before a crazed grin spread across her lips. It was a grin that would've made a regular man wet himself. "You know," she purred, "this is my favourite way of making a man talk. But tonight, I am the teacher, and Barton is my student. He's going to have a bit of an education tonight."

Clint took the knife reverently, admiring the onyx embellishments. It was a work of art. He didn't usually use knives or daggers, but this was all for intimidation purposes.

Natasha stood behind Cabree, holding the cuffs in one hand, just in case he decided to escape out of them. "Begin," she said.

No levity on his face, Clint began to cut off the suit his once fellow agent was wearing, uncaring of the cuts he 'accidentally' did on his way. Within minutes, Cabree was down to an under singlet and his slacks and shoes. The white of the singlet was tinged red from where the cuts had leaked blood.

"Tony…you might want to leave for this part," warned the archer.

Tony took a deep breath and replied firmly, "I'm staying right here."

Clint nodded. He then slashed a line from Cabree's sternum to navel, a bit deeper than the little cuts before, and blood instantly beaded from it. He ripped the singlet off, ignoring the cry of pain wrenched from his victim's mouth. Placidly, he asked, "Why'd you do it?"

Cabree looked nervous, his eyes open wide, body tense, but still unwilling to talk.

Natasha tutted mockingly. "Barton, I like to get them fully naked first before questioning. Adds to the humiliation."

"Naked?" squawked Cabree.

Clint looked at him like he was stupid. "Didn't you know that the Black Widow has a talent for castration?"

Tony winced and made as if to cover himself, while Cabree looked genuinely scared now. He had never been in a situation where he had been threatened with castration. Poison, bullets, knives, yes, but never this! He made as if to speak, but snapped his mouth shut again. Surely they wouldn't…

His fears trebled as Barton ripped off his boxers and trousers, leaving him bare.

The redhead looked down and gave a mocking laugh. "I think the reason you're going after some big shit is because you're compensating for something Gregory."

Tony and Clint smirked too, but the latter turned and asked his teammate, "Do you have any gloves on you? I'd rather not make skin on skin contact when I do this."

Tony shook his head. "No, but I'll grab one of the waiter's gloves. Be right back."

As Tony left, Clint turned back and looked down at the flaccid genitalia, and hovered the knife above it. "So, Romanoff, how do you like to do this? You've told me, but step me through it again."

"Well," she said slowly, drawing out the syllable, "I just don't go and slash it. Cuts down on the fun of it all. No, I run the knife over the balls, then the dick, and then I softly press the tip to…the tip. Don't cut just yet though. It's interesting to see how long they last without pissing themselves if they haven't already. After that, I make a few shallow cuts on the inner thighs, as a warm up, you know, last chance to talk, and then I-"

"-just cut 'em off?" asked Clint above Cabree's whimpering and hyperventilating.

"No. I make a cut in between the balls, and then cut the right one off, and then, while they're screaming, the other one comes off," finished Natasha.

"Oh, ok."

Tony returned, brandishing the white waiters gloves. The archer took them and slipped them on, grimacing as he leaned forward to move Cabree's penis to one side, aiming towards one of the testicles. As the flat of the blade touched him, Cabree screamed out, "OKAY! I'LL FUCKING TALK! Just don't cut off my balls!"

Natasha smirked. It always got them every time. The psychological mind fuck for a man to think about losing his bits was the perfect incentive to spill his guts.

Clint quickly aimed the dagger at Cabree's nose. "So talk."

And he did.

He told them how they all thought Stark was a cocky bastard and that he deserved to be brought down so low that he could never recover. They wanted to besmirch the Stark name and discredit the Avengers. He talked about their greed of the mounds of money they wanted to make, and had made, off the weapons. He spilled where the rest of the weapons were stashed. He talked about everything, gave it all up. It was almost shameful how easily his lips had loosened after the torture.

Spent, Cabree slumped, shaking, and pissed off at them and himself.

A new voice entered the scene.

"Nice work agents," Nick Fury said, stepping out from the alleyway, a satisfied smile on his face. "Mission completed."

"You were watching the whole time, weren't you boss?" Clint asked.

"Yeah. I admire your work. But I want a piece of him," the dark man said, his eye boring into Cabree's. "I'll remind him how being a traitor to SHIELD isn't the smartest decision to make."

"Fury…Nick, please," begged Cabree.

"Shut up," snapped Fury, taking his gun out and holding it against his temple. "You're coming back to SHIELD so I can make an example of you. And before you ask, no, you can't get any clothes."

Nodding at his best agents, Nick hauled Cabree up and stalked off into the night.

Tony whistled. "You know, if it wasn't for the fact he tried to fuck up my company and my life, I would almost feel sorry for him."

"Almost," chorused the partners.

Tony shook his head in wonder, "You two amaze me. Just promise me one thing Natasha? Don't ever do that to me. Pepper and I kinda like everything right where it is."

Natasha grinned and nodded. "Not to worry. I've only ever _actually_ castrated a guy once. All the other times, I didn't even get past the cuts on the thigh stage."

The dark haired man just shuddered at the thought, and went back into the ballroom. She turned to her lover, who was smiling at her, his eyes warm. "You did good," she complimented.

"I had a great teacher," Clint replied, peeling off the gloves and throwing them behind his shoulder. "Come on. Let's go and rejoin the party."

Natasha took his hand and led the way back down the hallway. A woman dressed in a big black cloak and dress came around the corner, her black hair obscuring her face. Natasha instantly felt uneasy for some reason, but kept on walking towards her. Suddenly, the coat moved, and a hand holding a mini-crossbow came out as the woman's head snapped up.

She recognised those eyes. Miranda Hillwire's.

"Clint!" she yelled, as she saw the weapon aiming at her lover. She launched herself at him, hoping to get him down in time. She heard the weapon discharge, and felt a pain in her abdomen as something sharp impacted. They fell to the ground in a jarring heap.

She cried out and she blindly felt at her stomach, fuzzily realising that the object had been a stiletto blade shot from the crossbow – which must have been modified to accept the weapon.

Vaguely, she heard shouts and screams, and it sounded like Hillwire had just been knocked out by Clint. Suddenly, the world got really fuzzy, and she couldn't keep her eyes open. She felt warm, sticky blood on her hands, and she gasped her breaths.

Why was it so painful? She had been shot before and been able to move…

But then again, she had never been shot in the abdomen.

Someone was screaming. Her name. Screaming her name.

Clint?

He sounded so far away.

"Tasha…Natasha stay with me…stay with me damn it!" he was yelling.

She had never heard him so scared.

"Clint," she managed to whimper.

A hand was stroking her face, her hair, while the other she felt putting pressure on around the wound. "Stay…please baby…keep awake Nat."

Why? It was so nice if she shut her eyes. Everything was so blurry it hurt. She knew she should fight and stay awake, but the darkness and numbness called to her, dragging her under.

The last thing she heard was a desperate scream. "NATASHA!"

* * *

**A/N: I am so evil aren't I?**

**Go ahead. You can say it. I'm evil for putting another cliffie in. But if you guys all recall back to chapter 9…you can see I had something like this planned from the early stages of the fic. Clint's dream DID mean something after all, so there's the answer for all that were wondering. **

**Before any of you go NUTS at me, don't worry, Natasha doesn't die. But this does serve to set up a very emotional scene for these two. Who can guess why?**

**Please review! I really enjoyed seeing the efforts from last week. A MASSIVE shout out to **_**Cassandra Fisher**_** for reviewing on EVERY chapter. Well done! Made me so joyous. And because I enjoyed writing the request fic for SilverLining1294, I'm doing another reviewer give away! Whoever is the 700****th**** reviewer will get a one-shot as a prize. I am familiar with the Avengers, Harry Potter, Eragon, Janet Evanovich, Hurt Locker, Transformers, Magic Mike (film), and Nicholas Sparks (books) fandoms. I don't write slash (and if I do, it's rare), but apart from that, I'm up for most things. **

**Happy reviewing my lovelies!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Due to the phenomenal amount of reviewing for the last chapter, I really tried to get this out quicker than last one. But, alas, I had a massive essay for uni to do, and I also had dramas with my internet. I decided to change the way I was going to do this chapter, thanks to some heartfelt pleas. It initially was going to be a bit more angsty, but I thought I'd give all my reviewers a gift and make it as nice as possible.**

**REMEMBER! Whoever is the 700****th**** reviewer gets a fic from me!**

**Rating: **M

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings.** FLUFF!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse.**

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 21**

* * *

_Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep._

'Urgh, what the hell is that noise? I've never had an alarm clock that slow before.'

_Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep._

'Why can't I wake up? I can't open my eyes!"

_Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep._

"I don't know if you can hear me…but wake up soon. We're all waiting Tasha."

'Clint? I'm _trying_ to wake up. I can't. What's wrong with me?'

_Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep._

* * *

Clint sighed and pressed a kiss to the cool, slender hand held in both his own. It had been three days, and although the doctors had said she should have been awake once they had finished the operation to stop the internal bleeding caused by the blade, complications had arose.

Like the poison tipped blade.

It slowed down Natasha's healing process.

It didn't matter to the archer that Miranda Hillwire had turned her weapon on herself when she realised just _who_ she had stabbed with the poison blade. Who cared about Cabree, dead by Fury's 'accidental' shove off the helicarrier? It didn't matter to him that all of the illegal Stark weapons had been found and destroyed and Tony Stark had been exalted in the view of New York (well, it did, but he couldn't care about it right now).

All that mattered was Natasha, still and pale in the hospital bed.

Just before, he thought he saw her eyes flicking to and fro rapidly under her lids, but then the movement was gone.

There was a quiet knock at the door. Steve came in, holding two cups of coffee. "Hey Hawk," he greeted.

"Hey," Clint croaked, his voice hoarse with little usage.

The blonde took the chair next to his teammate, handing him the coffee. "Still no change?"

"No."

Steve sighed. "It sucks. For you both."

"Yeah…" mumbled Clint sipping the warm drink. It soothed him, if only for the moment. Regardless, anxiety still sat in the pit of his stomach and the tension never left his frame. He looked at Steve, seeing just as much worry. "How about you?"

Steve shrugged. "She's like a sister to me now. A kick-ass, dangerous sister who has literal killer thighs, but I feel like she's family all the same. When I saw her on that stretcher, I felt my heart drop to my shoes. She's a tough nut, but even the Black Widow has limits." He stood, and clapped a hand on Clint's shoulder. "I'm going to see Bethany. Might take my mind off things."

"You do that. I'll call if there's any change," replied Clint.

The taller man nodded, before leaning over to press a kiss against Natasha's forehead. "You wake up soon hothead…we're not a team without you in it."

After he left, Clint breathed out and dropped his head to the hospital mattress.

All he could do now was wait.

* * *

It was the fifth day.

The only time Clint had left the hospital room was to shower and eat. Otherwise, he watched over his lover, hawklike as his codename. The rest of the Avengers took it in turns to visit every hour, checking on both spies.

The archer was exhausted from worry, but it didn't deter his will. He _would_ be here when Natasha woke up.

It was mid-afternoon when it happened.

He had a hand enveloped in both of his own again, slowly stroking circles with his thumb when he felt it. An increasing pressure on his hands. Stunned, he grasped her hand and squeezed it twice in a row.

He received two squeezes back.

"Natasha? Come on baby, open those pretty eyes for me."

He only got a hard squeeze of his hand in response.

Chuckling, he said, "I know I'm being bossy. I want you to wake up and look at me. God Nat, how I want you to look at me so I know that it's all okay." He watched her face intently, gripping her hand in his own, hoping that soon she would be speaking to him. He could see eye movement underneath her eyelids and heard her breathing quicken slightly. The beeps of the heart monitor picked up a little. And he hoped.

A soft noise came from the redhead's throat just as her eyes cracked open.

"That's it Natasha. Come on, fight it," Clint murmured, and then began to croon soft endearments in Russian.

Like a drowning woman, Natasha struggled past the mire of drugs and the temptation of sleep to breathe air again. Her eyes fluttered open, and she winced at the too bright light. She whined in protest, her throat too dry to make a distinguishable sound.

The light dimmed, and suddenly there was a straw at her lips, which she gratefully latched onto, satisfying her thirst. All too soon, it was pulled away and she could finally speak the name she had wanted to since she had first heard his voice. "Clint," she rasped. A warm hand was gripping hers tightly still, while the other came up to stroke across her cheek.

"I'm here," he said, grinning madly.

The redhead finally focussed on her lover. He had stubble, circles around his eyes, and a wrinkled shirt, but right now, he looked the most handsome she had ever seen him. Because he had stayed here by her side. She knew she probably looked like crap. Her pale skin under hospital lights just made her look like an uncooked pastry, but the way Clint was looking at her made her feel so welcome.

"Thank God," she mumbled back. "I was going crazy in my own head, hearing that stupid heart monitor beeping away."

"How are you feeling, other than the obvious?"

Natasha took a moment to think about it. "The IV line is a pain in the ass. My abs feel like I did a thousand crunches without water, a break, or warming up, and my head's still not really screwed on right."

Clint looked thoughtful. "Might be residual effects of the poison."

"Poison?"

He shrugged, looking morose. "Yep. Seems like bitchface laced the blade that got you…a blade that you didn't have to take."

"Yes I did," Natasha said fiercely. "She was aiming for you."

"Exactly," Clint said solemnly. "It should be me in that hospital bed. Not you."

The words carried so much certainty, so much gravity that Natasha had to hold in a gasp. "You're…being silly. I thought we could both miss it, so I thought we could both move-"

"It doesn't matter what you thought," the archer cut her off sharply, all the frustration and stress over the past five days bleeding into his tone. "What if you had been pregnant Nat? What if you were carrying our baby? The doctors _confirmed _you were _not_, but I can't help but think of the alternative." Agitatedly, he stood and paced the room, unable to look at her. "I wouldn't have been worth it in that case. I just couldn't help but think, what if I got so excited about having a kid, and this happened, and we would have lost it? And you _would_ have, between the wound and the poison. And it would have been _my_ fault, because I didn't react in time. _You_ did. I'm worried sick about losing you. What would have losing _both_ of you done to me?"

He took a quick breath and continued, "You're unbelievably lucky that they were able to save the lining of your uterus so you _could_ have kids in the future. Any lower, any chance of us having a baby would have been…been…"

His eyes were brimming with rare tears as he stopped his pacing, head bowed towards the ground, ashamed of his outburst.

"Clint."

The softness in Natasha's voice broke him, and he whirled around and confessed, "I love you. I love you so much, and I love the idea of us having a kid one day. To think that that could have been all gone, that dream disappearing in front of my eyes haunts me – and because we've been trying to be 'just partners' for years, it could have happened sooner. I don't care if you don't feel the same…I just need you to know I love you."

And with that, he came back over to a stunned Natasha's bedside, and placed loving kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, and her mouth, a tear falling from his eye to land on her cheek.

When he released her, the redhead gasped, "You idiot. How can you not think I love you too?"

Clint's frown transformed into a beaming grin, and he cupped her head tenderly in his hands, gently placing little kisses everywhere, glorying in her skin feeling alive and warm. After a few minutes, he reluctantly pulled back. "I have to call the doc to come and check you out," he whispered.

"Wait-" Natasha croaked out.

"I'll be back soon…I promise, but I need to make sure that you're okay," he assured, pressing another kiss to her lips and backing away slowly, giving her one last lingering look before leaving the room.

The wounded spy lay, still and stunned after the sudden and honest outpouring of emotion. Both from herself and her partner.

The look in his eyes had swallowed her whole with no chance of escape, ever. She had seen him like that the first time they had sex, and then the second, and then now. All consuming, welcome, and warm. That confession! It had thrown her for a loop and then some. She had no regrets about admitting that she felt the same. It had been oddly liberating to do so. She felt lighter, despite how sore she felt.

Raising a shaking hand to her lips, a smile crossed Natasha's face.

"By the looks of that smile, it seems that you are doing better Ms. Romanoff."

Natasha's attention was drawn to a short, slim man with grey hair, a stethoscope around his neck, followed by Clint. The doctor, presumably.

"I'm doing better because I'm awake," she bantered back.

The doctor smiled in return before swiftly going through the motions of a check up, asking the right questions and eventually deeming her 'out of the woods.' He then added that she would be released in the next few days – just in case any complications arose after her awakening, they wanted to monitor her for a little while longer. When he finally left, it was just Clint and Natasha again.

The archer's movements were swift towards his partners bed, and he asked, "Mind if I join you?"

"I'd mind if you didn't," she replied, feeling lethargy come on.

Clint noticed, and he gently got on the bed, carefully adjusting Natasha so they could both fit on it. He let out a choked sob at the feel of his lover in his arms once more, and couldn't keep his hands away, stroking her hair while the other caressed her side. He wanted to memorise this moment forever, just in case something like this happened again.

Natasha, sleepy from pain medication, snuggling into the warmth of her partner's body. She felt safe and secure, tucked in his arms and touched so lovingly.

"Sleep, love," crooned the archer.

"Mmm…love you," she mumbled in reply, before dropping off into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

The next day, Natasha was awake and happily looking forward to seeing the rest of her teammates. She wanted to know what had been going on.

Since she was only allowed a maximum of two visitors at a time, Clint agreed that he would wait outside until the whole team was finished. He reasoned to himself that it was only fair they got to spend some time with her as well. He would have to remind himself to stop being so overprotective.

Steve and his new girlfriend Bethany were the first. Steve carried a small bunch of daffodils and Bethany wore a warm smile.

"Hi," the bubbly brunette said, coming over to Natasha, missing the look of mild surprise on the redhead's face. "I'm Bethany. I remember seeing you with Steve at the cafe when we met. I heard you were hurt, so I thought I'd tag along to see you." She dug into her handbag and pulled out a paper bag, the smell of fresh muffin filling the air. "I brought a muffin from the cafe for you. Steve mentioned you like these ones. And whoever is a friend of Steve is a friend of mine."

Humbled by the gesture, Natasha replied softly, "Thank you. They're my favourite."

Bethany simply beamed. Steve came over to stand next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders while he leaned over to place the daffodils on Natasha's bed. "For you. I'm so glad you're awake, spitfire."

"Me too Cap," replied the spy, taking the flowers and running her fingers over the petals. "Yellow…to cheer me up?"

"Yeah," the blonde replied, grinning. "You need some sunny things in this room I think."

Natasha chuckled. "I agree. So…how long has this-" she gestured between the couple, "-been going on?"

"Ever since you got into the hospital. Bethany understood completely. Turns out she used to be an office clerk for SHIELD," Steve explained.

"But that was too boring for me. I'm under contract never to mention the top secret documents I saw, but I remembered why you both seemed a little familiar. I've given that job up so I could focus on my art and design business," Bethany jumped in.

"So we went for coffee. Beth's been great," Steve said, giving his girlfriend a little squeeze, "and she helped me not to freak out. There's just a great connection between us. And I have you to thank, Natasha. If you hadn't taken me to the cafe that day, I would have never met her."

Natasha felt a lump in her throat, and she swallowed it. She would _not_ get emotional. It was enough to be exposed to Clint.

"I'm happy for you both," she replied. "Tell me what else has been happening."

They went through a few more minutes of idle chit-chat before soft knock on the door interrupted them. Steve and Bethany promised to return the next day and left hand in hand.

Tony and Pepper were the next ones through the door.

Tony looked uncommonly neutral, neither cheeky or serious, but if anything, drained. Pepper looked content though. Natasha could see it in their postures that they were a little stronger together. Good. They were right for each other.

"It's good to see you up Natasha," Pepper greeted.

"Hey red, how are you feeling?" Tony asked.

"Honestly? Like someone ran me over with the helicarrier. The doctors say it's an after effect of the poison," she answered honestly.

Tony half-smiled and brought a box into view. Pepper was smiling now – she obviously knew what was in it. "I made something for you while you were in coma land," he said quietly. "I hope you like it. It's meant to help while in recovery. Just in case sort of thing."

Intrigued, Natasha asked, "What is it?"

Without speaking, the billionaire opened up the box and pulled something out of the paper wrappings. It was metallic and looked odd. It wasn't until Tony straightened out some folded up pieces of metal that the injured Avenger recognised the shape. It was a robotic black widow spider. It was big, about the size of Thor's hand splayed out.

With a soft gasp of astonishment, Natasha reached out and took it in her hands.

"The red hourglass on the abdomen is to turn it on. It's trained to your bio-signature and will recognise you as its master. It also can sense your Avengers teammates. It won't attack anyone unless you tell it so," Tony explained, looking hopefully into his teammates face. He really wanted her to like it.

"It's amazing," murmured Natasha, pressing the hourglass. There was a faint whirr as the spider 'woke up,' it's robotic eyes looking around.

"Hello Mistress," a little tinny voice said.

"It talks too!" exclaimed the redhead, in awe at the craftsmanship.

Tony just shrugged. Pepper took the moment to speak. "You can turn off the voice at any time. You can make it more gender based and you can give it a name. The whole point of it is just in case Clint isn't near you and you need some help, the BW 1.0 can retrieve it for you, whether it be one of us or some medicine. You can also get it to emit an alarm which will uplink with JARVIS and his systems so we will know if you are in trouble."

"Wow."

"There are other features too," Tony pointed out. "There are detachable blades in the four front legs you can use as an emergency weapons. You can replace them easily after. There is a camera in its head and a usb port to get data from if you need to. So this little thing can be your mini spy if you like."

"Tony," Natasha said, her voice trembling with emotion. "This is amazing. I didn't even know you were so capable of such a thoughtful gift!"

Tony and Pepper laughed.

"Oh, he'll surprise you. He surprises me all the time," the strawberry blonde chuckled knowingly. "It never gets old."

"Oh I'm hurt Pep," the genius teased.

Natasha grinned. She then turned her attention to the robotic spider in her lap. It looked up at her, and she made a split decision. "Modulate your voice to female. You will be known as Arachne."

"Data stored," a female robotic voice said.

Pleased, the redhead turned off her new 'pet' and sat back. She had more questions. "So tell me what went on with the Stark tech."

Pepper and Tony filled her in on all the details. The members of the group that had not died had been arrested and separated in different prisons up and down the east coast. Details had been 'leaked' to the press and soon not only were the group arrested in the eyes of the law, the media had hung them for their crimes too. Because of that, Tony Stark had been shown in a much better light, as well as the rest of the Avengers. Reports of their tireless efforts to stop the illegal weapons ring were circulating heavily.

Every weapons cache had been found and this time the Avengers had made sure everything was destroyed. The only concern now was to track down the weapons that had already been sold.

Tony was just cracking a few jokes about Senator Stern when another knock signalled the end of their session. Farewelling the injured spy, the couple made way for Thor and Bruce.

Needless to say, it had taken all of Bruce's strength and persuasion to make sure Thor didn't tackle Natasha in a hug. The thunder god had to settle for holding a bemused Natasha's hand.

"Fierce Natasha! Brave Natasha!" boomed Thor excitedly, "How good it is too see you well!"

"You too Thor," she said, unable to keep the smile off her face. He really was infectious.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries (Thor pronouncing that the first thing that would happen once she 'escaped' the hospital was a feast in her honour) and small talk before Bruce, looking serious as ever, said, "You know, I've never seen Clint like that. While you were unconscious, I've never seen a man so geared towards another's protection."

"What do you mean?" asked Natasha, confused.

Bruce hesitated for a second before telling her. "He went nuts. Instead of waiting for an ambulance to come, he picked you up and ran here. It saved your life. The ambulance would have been too slow – you would have had more damage if he hadn't run." He paused to let it sink in, seeing the woman's stunned expression. "And then, after your surgery, the hospital staff wanted to put you in a general room with about five other people, but Clint stepped in again. He told them about your status as an Avenger and that it would be dangerous for them to put you in a room with other people. They went with his demands pretty soon after that. I noticed when I got here that his bow fingers were twitching."

"Really?" Natasha said disbelievingly.

The scientist nodded.

She leaned back heavily. "Wow," she sighed, "my hero."

"Yeah," Bruce said. "I admire his actions. It shows the strength of his convictions. It really cements this team to have someone like that."

"Hear hear!" pronounced Thor.

Like with the rest of her visitors, they engaged in small talk after that, but Natasha's mind was full with thinking about what Bruce had said about what Clint had done for her.

What had she done to deserve a man like that?

She swore her heart swelled, remembering his emotional declaration of love. Just remembering it made her feel on cloud nine. She was only absently listening to Thor and Bruce now as she pondered. Because of her Black Widow training, she had truly believed love was for children. Clint had changed everything. She used to think that love was poncy crap – not for her.

Look at her now! She loved and was loved in return, and she had people that actually cared for her, homicidal tendencies and all.

Before she knew it, Bruce and Thor were promising to come back tomorrow, with Thor cheekily adding that he might go back to Asguard to get another Epigshkin.

Natasha had been expecting Clint next, but was curious when Nick Fury edged into her room.

"Good to see you're still with us Agent Romanoff."

"Couldn't leave you without one of your best, boss," she joked. Nick gave her a smile in return.

"Too right," he agreed. He took the visitors chair and reached over to pat her hand. "I was also worried about _you_ not just your abilities. It makes me proud to see you doing well after the mess that was your early life."

Natasha rolled her eyes. Fury rarely showed his more protective side like this, but she was glad for it. "Me too. What's up?"

"Straight to business? All right." He leaned back in the seat, getting comfortable. "You're going to have a lot of time off. Take as long as you need to heal, and then take a few weeks vacation time."

"That much time?"

Fury's eyes got a bit sad. "You and Barton need the time. And yes-" he cut off Natasha with a wave of his hand, "- I guessed it. But you are both very good at hiding it. So I'm letting you guys do whatever. I also feel a bit responsible for your injury. One of the agents at the ball recognised Hillwire, but didn't report to me. They've been fired, but the matter remains is that it could have been prevented."

Natasha found herself stunned for what felt the umpteenth time today. "Nick?"

Shaking his head, the dark skinned man murmured, "You have gone above and beyond duty. Take the time. It will also give me time to assess SHIELD. I might have a task for you and Clint after your well-deserved holiday. For you to be the internal agents so that something like what happened with Cabree can never happen again."

The spy considered Fury's words. It was a good idea. And who better to do it than her and Clint? They would be less suspect to be doing internal checkups on agents because they were so busy with duties to both the Avengers and SHIELD. "Okay. Clint and I'll come in before we go on vacation. To make it all official."

"I'd appreciate that Romanoff," the SHIELD director replied. "You focus on getting better."

"I will," she promised.

With a final nod, Fury left.

Not three seconds after the door closed, Clint, looking refreshed and younger than before, slipped in, going immediately to her and crawling in next to Natasha, wrapping his arms around her.

"They took _forever_," he pouted.

Natasha's chuckle was low as she glimpsed the pout on her lover's face. "Why are you complaining? You get me most of the time."

"Because you're mine," Clint said, looking up into her eyes, his own burning with longing and affection. "I'm just having a little trouble not being too emotional. I'll probably be clingy for a few days."

"Clingy? You? Well, a leech would be less so at this point," Natasha teased good-naturedly, bringing a hand up to card through his hair. He hummed in response, snuggling closer and doing some caressing of his own.

"Want to know the good news?" the archer asked.

"Mmm?"

"You can be released tomorrow if nothing shows up on their tests tonight. But no physical activity for at least three weeks," Clint replied.

Natasha shrugged. She had expected that. "So that throws off the plans for the celebratory sex."

Clint snorted with laughter. "A bit. But when the time comes, something tells me we'll be in our room for at least a day."

The redhead smirked. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

The next day saw Natasha released. Although she had a wheelchair, the doctors said it was just until her core strength built up again and there was less risk of further injury to her abdomen. A week at the most.

What thrilled her to no end was the fact that her Avengers family had all kept their promises and were part of the convoy back to Stark Tower. After the initial rounds of 'welcome home,' they thankfully left her and Clint alone to go up to Clint's apartment, sensing that the two agents needed the time together.

Wheeling his partner in, Clint announced, "Welcome home."

Natasha turned around, her jade green eyes piercing him. "Home is with you, Clint. I love you."

Clint swore his brain melted and turned into mush. He felt so sappy. It meant so much to him for her to continue opening up to him like this. He gave her a gentle smile before bending over to kiss her, unable to stop himself from taking her taste in again and again.

"I agree. I love you too Nat."

* * *

**A/N: Soooo…how did you all like this one?**

**I wanted this to be a really sweet chapter, so I hope I achieved that. As always, your reviews are very much appreciated. As I said in my A/N at the beginning, thank you all so much for your amazing reviewing last chapter. Keep it up!**

**Remember, 700****th**** reviewer gets the prize!**

**Next chapter: Before the vacation, who does Natasha run into?**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Congrats to our prize winner Malmal86 For being the 700****th**** reviewer. As I type this, it's their b'day, so happy birthday! Your one shot will be typed up soon, if not done already.**

**THANKS for all the reviewing guys! I love it each time you review. It puts a spring in my step…it's a very indescribable feeling. **

**Hope you all like this one.**

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings.** Fluff and Smut. And a little OOC-ness by a certain blonde…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse.**

* * *

**No Time For Regrets – Chapter 22**

* * *

It had felt so good for Natasha to be finally up and about again.

During her recovery, Clint had been uncharacteristically clingy for the first week, before eventually settling down into the cool, calm pillar of strength he was once more. But he had been unendingly supportive, bringing her breakfast in bed (much to her surprise), helping her around even when she had protested it, all the little things like that. Natasha had no doubt that without his help – along with her mechanical pet Arachne – her recovery would have taken much longer.

So after a solid month of wound rehabilitation, the doctors had cleared her for moderate activity. Meaning no missions for at least another month. But they had okayed bedroom 'activities.' A little nugget of information she hadn't let Clint on in.

Yet.

She had decided to wait until they were on the west coast before surprising him with the information – along with a flirty little number from Victoria's Secret.

Now, she and her archer were on SHIELD's helicarrier, finalising some boring paperwork for Fury before they left. He wanted to make sure that all their t's were crossed and their i's dotted so that there would be no issues with their extended vacation leave. They were also there for another reason. To talk about being the eyes and ears for Fury on his agents, just in case they were not so faithful to their jobs.

Natasha was just filing the information with the records centre when she saw a flash of platinum blonde out of the corner of her eye. Her heart sank.

No way.

No freakin' way was that skinny ass bitch here at the same time she and Clint were. Fury usually made sure they were separated.

The redhead racked her brains, thinking about where Clint could be. He had mentioned something about restocking his arrows just in case for their trip (that one was going to be interesting to explain to airport security!), and then maybe shooting the shit with some other agents to throw them off the trail that the both of them were going on a holiday together.

Determined, Natasha shoved the rest of the paper in the correct file slot and took off for the break room.

She'd be damned if she let Bobbi 'Mockingbird' Morse near Clint without being nearby too. It's not that she didn't trust Clint. She just didn't trust Bobbi. The skank.

As she hurried down the hallways, Natasha recalled the night that Clint came to her after Bobbi ripped out his heart, stomped on it, and put it back in his chest. Before the fiasco with Loki, it had been the most vulnerable she had ever seen him. She had been living in a studio apartment in a less picturesque part of Manhattan when she had gotten a knock on the door. Suspicious – as very few people knew where she lived in her off time – she had answered the door, Widows Bites on and charged. The archer had stumbled in, reeking of alcohol and eyes red-rimmed and teary.

Surprised, she had assisted Clint onto her couch, asking him what the hell he was doing here in her apartment. They had only been working together for about six months at this point. There had been some trust between them, but nothing noteworthy.

She could still remember the lost look in his eyes and his words.

**_Flashback_**

"_She left me. Bobbi left me. Cheated on me with a football player who's taller than me and muscles out to here," Barton slurred, gesturing out wildly to his sides. The words were almost unintelligible, but Natasha got the gist of it anyway. _

_Muttering lowly in Russian, she asked, "Did she say why she cheated?"_

_The answering laugh was hollow and self mocking. "Apparently this guy satisfies her more than me. She said I'm not around much. Hell! We're both agents! She should know this! And she's never said anything about this before…"_ _He then let a few tears slip and roll down his face. "I thought we had somethin'. But she dragged me along like the chump I was."_

_Natasha rolled her eyes and went into the bathroom for a second, coming out with a cool, damp towel and carefully pressed it to her fellow agent's forehead. "First of all, toughen up. I doubt you're the only guy Morse has led around by his dick." _

_Clint had glared at her, but didn't rebuke her._

"_Secondly, if she can't appreciate the man she's got and at least tell him the truth from the get go, she's confirmed she's the slutty, slimy bitch I knew she was when I first met her. Mourn over the lost relationship, and cleanse yourself of her. Move on. She's obviously not worth the trouble," the redhead continued. _

_He had leaned into her then, wordlessly seeking comfort he was certain he wouldn't receive. _

_But he did._

_To his surprise, Natasha had sighed and patted his shoulder, saying softly, "Go to sleep Barton. I promise there will be hot coffee in the morning to help with the hell of a hangover you are going to have."_

**_End Flashback_**

Ever since then, their partnership had been more easy. Then it had grown into a lust-tinged friendship, which had now evolved into something more.

Natasha slowed when she heard voices. The break room was just in the next corridor, and she could hear Clint and the skank. Keeping herself hidden, she peeked around the corner.

There stood Bobbi Morse, twirling her straight, blonde, _too perfect_ hair around her finger, a smile on her glossy red lips as she leaned towards Clint.

Clint looked very taken aback and wary, his stance defensive, fists loosely curled. His expression was blank, but in his eyes warred fury and apathy. "Agent Morse. I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you were still in Tokyo."

"Clint…no need to be so informal with me darling," the blonde simpered. "I've just finished and came back here. Seen you in the news. I've heard you're with the Avengers."

"Yes."

That smile was getting predatory. "Interesting, considering how much of a lone wolf you are. Are you sure being in this team is good for you?"

The archer's jaw clenched before he answered. "Positive. Why are you so concerned?"

Tutting, Morse stepped closer to her ex, their bodies almost touching, unaware of the green eyes that stared daggers into her back. "I've always been concerned about you, Clinty…we were _so_ good together. Surely you must remember?"

"Remember how you stuck a knife in my back and twisted it? Yeah. I remember that part," Clint replied smugly, seeing a flash of annoyance on Bobbi's face. He knew what she was after. He had more status now. Not only was he the best archer in the world, but he was a part of the Avengers, a team put together by Nick Fury himself. Simple gold digger mentality.

"You know I was sorry for that," she replied, "besides, it's not like you're seeing someone. Why don't we have a quick roll in the hay? For old times' sake."

With a smirk, Clint asked, "What makes you think I'm not seeing anyone?"

Bobbi rolled her eyes. "Please, every woman on this ship knows you were damaged by our break up. Who, apart from me, would want you? You're damaged goods darling."

Even from where she was hiding, Natasha could see some of Clint's confidence fall. That bitch! Clint had _never_ been damaged goods, especially as far as she was concerned.

That one moment of hesitation in the archer's bravado gave Bobbi the moment she needed. "Just one taste to get you hooked," she whispered, inching closer.

"No!" Clint protested, eyes cold, and he stepped back, his fingers twitching. He fought not to pull his gun, knowing it would create hassle with the internal bureau of investigations. And Fury. "Fuck off. I'm done with you. You're not even worth the stuff I put in the trash."

Faster than he could blink, Morse had him up against the wall, her nun-chucks holding him in place at his neck. Her eyes were bright with anger. "Bitch," he spat, ignoring the increased pressure on his throat.

"I'll get what I want, and I want you," the blonde hissed, before smashing her lips against his. He lashed out, pushing her back to the floor, grabbing his gun and cocking it, only to find that someone had beat him to it and was pressing their own weapon into Morse's forehead.

Natasha.

He quirked a smirk at her and then rubbed at his mouth. "Urgh. She's got her lipstick and spit all over me, like a fuckin' dog."

"Well, sluts have a habit of doing that," Natasha said conversationally.

Bobbi's face contorted into an ugly snarl. "Well if it isn't the Russian charity case. Surprised no-one's turned on you yet."

"That's because I'm the Black Widow. Unlike you, I'm respected in most circles, whether they be friend or foe," replied Natasha, pressing the butt of her gun more insistently into the bimbo's forehead – she hoped a muzzle stamp would be left from the pressure. "Tell me, what's it like to have to sleep your way to the top? I wouldn't know."

The Mockingbird didn't have a comeback for that one. She just growled out, "I can't wait until I hear the news one day that you were found knifed in a gutter, or shot in the head by some target you had to eliminate. I'll be listening out for it."

The redhead chuckled quietly. "Interesting. I always knew you were jealous of me Morse. Jealous that I am a better agent than you, got promoted higher and better than you, things like that. I bet you're even sick with envy every night that I don't have to starve myself to make my body look great and that I don't have to wear a ton of makeup to disguise my imperfections. It must suck to know that I'm on the Avengers team and one of Fury's best. Doesn't it… 'darling?'"

Bobbi shrieked and would have lunged at Natasha if not for the second gun aimed at her, the steely eyed Clint behind it. "Get out. Never come near us again. If you do, I'm sure we'll be able to claim self defence in an internal investigation."

Sensing she would lose this battle, Morse snorted, "Whatever. You're not worth my time, damaged goods the both of you."

She got up and retrieved her nun-chucks under the hard eyes of both agents. As she began to walk away, Natasha couldn't resist one last parting shot.

"I don't know about you Morse, but I wouldn't call a nine and a half inch cock damaged goods. Especially when it's so nice and thick too!"

Bobbi turned around, shaking with anger and shrilly screamed, "What!?" She looked between the two partners in abject horror. She then pointed at Clint and hissed, "You fucked _her?_"

"No. I didn't '_fuck'_ her. I made love to her. Something you'll never know or feel because of the ice-hearted gold digging bitch you are. Now get out of my sight," Clint snarled back, gesturing with his gun.

Finally tasting bitter defeat, Morse gave in inhuman shriek of rage and stomped out of sight.

Breathing a sigh of relief seconds later, the couple tucked away their weapons and turned to each other.

"You okay?" asked Natasha, looking worriedly at the irritated red spots on her lover's neck from where the nun-chucks had pressed into him.

Clint shrugged. "Yeah. I'm all good. I just wasn't expecting…that."

The redhead shrugged. "Me either. I recognised her hair and followed. You know she's going to blab over the ship about us now." She sighed, "I didn't want to let the secret out just yet."

"Then we don't. I can go back to my buddies back in the break room and tell them that Agent Morse is pissed that I won't take her back, and so she's threatened to spread nasty rumours about me and you. Sound good?"

Grinning, Natasha replied, "I like the way you think Barton. See you back at the tower?"

"I'll be there."

* * *

Tony Stark had done it again. Only this time he had used his powers for good.

Upon returning to the tower, the couple had been surprised by their billionaire teammate, who was standing proudly in front of a limousine.

"Tony? What's with the limo?" asked Clint.

He had merely shrugged and bounced forward. "I know you guys were just going to go off and have some 'me' time, but me, being me, I snooped into your travel plans. And before you kill me for looking," Tony said pre-emptively, pointedly looking at Natasha, "I only did it because I wanted to improve your experiences in Los Angeles."

"Improve how?" asked Natasha, hoping that Tony hadn't changed their reservations to some kiddie hotel for a joke.

Theatrically, Tony held up his hands in a defensive posture. "I've arranged for a limo to drop you off and pick you up from the airport when you leave and return. I've also ungraded your seats to first class, and last, but not least, I upgraded your room from the four star motel you guys were going to go to the penthouse at the Four Seasons Beverly Wilshire Hotel."

Tony then grinned at the two stunned faces staring at him in disbelief.

"You did all that?" asked Natasha.

Tony shrugged. "Hey, you guys are my friends, and you are part of my Avengers family. Family looks out for each other. You're like the annoying siblings I never had. I _wanted_ to do this for you. I wanted to make this time away for you special."

"And so you booked us into the 'Pretty Woman' hotel?" asked Clint a little sarcastically.

"I thought it was one of my more romantic ideas," Tony retorted a tad defensively.

Both agents looked at each other, wordlessly communicating before nodding. The redhead said quietly, "We really appreciate this Tony. It shows a great deal of sensitivity from you. We'd be honoured to accept your gift."

The dark haired man perked up at that. "Well good. Now all your bags have been packed. The team said they wanted to wish you goodbye, but that they thought that Thor would want to come with you if they did."

They all had a little laugh at that one.

Farewelling Tony, the couple got into the limo and left.

Tony stood there, staring at the car until it was out of sight. It was then that slender, familiar arms wrapped around him and a sweet voice whispered in his ear, "Have I ever mentioned that I find it very sexy when you're being sweet?"

"Yes. But don't let it get out, it'll ruin my reputation," Tony replied, turning around to smile at Pepper. His partner in all things was smiling back at him, and he couldn't resist lowering his head to kiss her. As it deepened, he relished in the little moans winding their way from Pepper's lips, only to be smothered by his kisses. He broke it and murmured, "The teenagers have gone, Steve and Thor are glued to the TV watching The Lion King, and Bruce is being a happy little nerd. Why don't we have a little fun?"

Pepper giggled and blushed. "What would that entail?"

A lustful glint in his eyes, Tony answered, "Perhaps modelling that rainbow of lingerie can be the start."

"You're on, tin man."

* * *

Clint stood on the balcony of the penthouse, inhaling the fresh air and tilting his head back to welcome the sun on his face. God, it felt so good to be relaxing.

Thanks to Tony, the relaxation had started on the jet that had taken them to the other side of America. They had been the only people travelling first class, which had served to lower both his and Natasha's guards a bit so they didn't have to be wary of too many people. Together, they had indulged in strawberries dipped in chocolate – forgoing the champagne until they were back on solid land –taking the time to talk about what they really wanted to do in LA.

All Clint wanted to really do was travel to the nearest beach a few times during their two week stay. That, sleep, and spend time with his lover.

Natasha had a more definitive idea. She wanted to explore the best places to eat and go see a few historical landmarks. She wanted to go to Rodeo drive and act like a real tourist. Seeing the exuberance in her eyes, Clint had agreed. Natasha could drag him wherever she wanted to go. He didn't care, as long as he was with her.

Their on flight meal had also been better than they expected. Fillet of beef steak in a rich cream pepper sauce with asparagus and broccoli. Both had devoured it and decided to rest until the flight was over.

As Tony had promised, a limo had arrived to pick them up and take them to their hotel.

Upon arrival, Clint and Natasha had been stunned yet again when the _manager_ of the hotel was the first to greet them, insisting on personally taking them up to the room before giving them a tour of the hotel.

It had been amazing to say the least. Never had Clint been shown such luxury. He was sure that Natasha had felt the same when they stepped into the plush penthouse apartment that screamed of money. It had a traditional style, not what either spy was used to, but they let it go and decided to mark it as the first of a new experience.

Afterwards, the manager had taken them to view the pool and surrounding gardens, the spa, the rooms where specific shots of 'Pretty Woman' had been filmed. It left them both filled with anticipation. They got to spend a fortnight surrounded by all of this.

"What are you thinking about?"

Clint smiled as Natasha interrupted his thoughts. "Us being here."

Her footsteps were soft as she came to rest on the balcony near him. "It's all impressive. The service, the view…" Natasha's voice was soft and affection filled as she spoke. "The company."

Clint turned to look at her. He took the moment to admire his lover, so very alive and looking youthful with the sun shining down on her. Her crimson hair glistened and her eyes were bright with precious contentment. So beautiful. He leaned down to brush a kiss over her lips, feeling the electricity of attraction pass between them. He drew her close before looking out over the balcony. "You look like you're enjoying yourself already."

"Of course. Even if we got called back to work in three days time, I'd still be happy, because in this moment…I don't _have_ to be Agent Romanoff. I can be Natasha," she said softly.

"Looks like you're taking some life lessons from me," Clint teased.

"I think you have rubbed off on me," replied the redhead, withdrawing from his embrace to go back inside the apartment. "I'm thinking of going to try out the pool. Want to join me?"

Clint thought about it and then shook his head. "Nah, go ahead. I'm actually really happy just to watch from up here."

Natasha looked a little skeptical, just before a mischievous little grin crossed her face. "If you say so."

As she disappeared from sight, Clint shrugged and grabbed a new book and his iphone, intent on doing some catch up reading while listening to guitar melodies. It was almost ten minutes later when Natasha came out of the bathroom, watching him relaxing with that same smile on her face. Deliberately, she sauntered out in front of him, knowing he would sense her presence. The look on his face when he finally took her in shifted from neutral to intense.

"You like?" she asked.

The archer's eyes darkened and he said lowly, "I do. But are you really going out in that?"

Natasha looked down and shrugged. If it were not for the new scar across her belly, she would have worn a bikini. But the deep blue one piece clung like a second skin. It was also low cut, a bonus in her plan. "Yeah," she answered.

Clint took one last look at her and then got up. "I've changed my mind. I'm going with you." '_And I hope that pool water is cold,'_ he thought to himself, unable to take his eyes of his partner's lithe figure.

He quickly changed into board shorts and came out, grabbing the key card and towels before turning to Natasha. He saw the cheeky look in her face and wouldn't resist a smirk in return. "If you really wanted me to come for a swim with you, all you had to do was ask."

"But this was a lot more fun," she replied.

"More of a temptation you mean," he bantered back, reaching out to take her hand and guide her from the room.

"Wait a sec," Natasha said, and pulled Arachne out of her handbag and switched her on. The mechanical black widow came to life and scurried up the Russian's arm to rest on her shoulder. The little thing had quickly become attached to her 'master.' "Arachne…I want you to turn on your camera and stand guard over the room."

"Heard, received, will execute," Arachne replied, crawling down her back and planted her legs in the carpet watching the door.

"Great idea," said Clint approvingly.

Natasha shrugged, "Might as well put Tony's gift to use. Now let's go Hawk."

"Right behind you Widow."

Much to Clint's relief, the pool was very cold and help to tamp down the stirrings of lust he had felt. As Natasha floated in the shallow end, he did laps to help ease some of the sudden tension. As he swam, he thought about how delicious his lovers body looked in that swimsuit. He could imagine taking her back up to the room after their swim, both of them with their skin still damp, and…

Forcefully slicing through the water, he tried to discard that line of thought.

She still hadn't been cleared for anything more strenuous that everyday activities such as walking or light physio. A lot of that had also been working in a pool to help regain her core strength. Thinking about her sweaty and sexy would have to take a back burner until she was okay.

When he felt that his bodily reactions were under control, he glided over to his partner who was smirking at him behind her sunglasses.

"Enjoying yourself?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah. You?"

Full lips tipped up in a big grin. "Surprisingly yes. I don't think I've ever been this relaxed in my life."

"And this is only the first day," Clint reminded her, his heart doing flip flops at the way she seemed to light up. It reminded him that his crimson-locked lover had never really had the chance to have a vacation. While they had both been to many different places in the world, very little time was for enjoyment.

With a contented sigh, Natasha wrapped her arms and legs around Clint, the water buoyancy helping her to cling to him. "Mmm, even in water, you're warm," she commented.

The archer chuckled and leaned back in the water. He felt her relax against him, and so he lazily moved around the pool with his partner atop him. He was so attuned to her body that he knew the exact moment she dropped off into a light nap. Carefully, he sat on one of the pool steps and let her rest, silently thanking whatever deity out there for not taking her away from him in the last attack.

* * *

After the pool and her nap, Natasha had insisted that she would go to the spa for a little pampering before dinner. Clint had stayed in the room, finally reacquainting himself with the book and guitar songs on his iphone.

So absorbed he was in the plot of the CSI: NY novel that he almost didn't notice when Natasha returned, looking radiant and fresh.

He wolf whistled and she rolled her eyes at his smirk. "Down boy. I have to get ready for dinner."

As she walked past, Clint abruptly pulled her down into his lap and buried his face in her neck. "God Nat, have I ever told you how wonderful you smell?"

"You have now," Natasha murmured, enjoying the warmth that spread through her body from his comment and the huskiness of his voice. It sent hot tingles down to her nether regions.

"Mm…go and get ready before I decide to have _you_ for dinner," Clint teased.

Natasha's eyes turned a more brilliant green as she rose and coquettishly replied, "You know Barton, that's a pretty good offer…but a nice hearty chicken dish is sounding a little bit better at the moment." She ducked and laughed as a pillow flew through the air where she once was. "Nice try."

"You know as well as I do that I expected you to duck," replied Clint. He then pointedly went back to his book, mentioning for his partner to get ready. Natasha chuckled and picked up Arachne on her way to the bedroom. She stood in the doorway, pet spider in hand, and took in the grandeur of the room. She had seen it before, but the massive king bed dominated the room, adorned with an elegant white and black bedspread with smooth and soft 1000 thread count ivory sheets underneath. Depositing Arachne on the bed, she ordered the silver spider to let her know if Clint came in while she was changing.

She didn't want the effect of her dress to be spoiled by a sneak peek.

Fixing her hair and makeup, actually putting a bit more effort into it rather than her everyday swipe of mascara and lipstick, Natasha then pulled out the special matching bra and panty set she had bought especially for Clint. While she was more of a sports bra and boyleg underwear kind of woman, she thought her lover deserved a little surprise after the hell of a stressful time. Sliding the scrap of purple lace on made her feel more feminine than she had ever been. The half-cup bra fitted perfectly, showing off her cleavage to its best.

She double checked herself in the mirror. While she wasn't totally enthusiastic about the new scar across her abdomen, she had to admit she looked great.

Natasha then slid on a light grey dress and matching low heels, carefully tucking a .22 calibre gun onto a thigh holster. The perks of the dress was that, while knee length, it had a side split in the floaty skirt. Hey, you could take the agent out of SHIELD, but you couldn't take the SHIELD training out of the agent. The rest of the sleeveless dress clung to her like a second skin. Silver necklace and earrings finished the look.

"Mission accomplished Arachne," the spy murmured, and her pet chirruped and leapt onto her outstretched hand. "Your next task is to look after the room again. Can you do that?"

"Anything for you ma'am," Arachne replied, and seemed to nuzzle into her hand before scurrying away – presumably to the best spot to survey the room.

Smiling fondly at Tony's invention, Natasha took a deep breath and stepped out, locking her sight on her lover as he read. She watched with anticipation as he sensed her, and then looked up. Immediately, his eyes went dark grey as the flicked over her form, and he licked his lips and swallowed.

"You're trying to kill me here," he murmured huskily.

"Tried to do that once, didn't work out – we got stuck as partners instead, remember?" Natasha replied with a smirk. If this had been a target for a mission in front of her, she would have gloated at the fact that men seemed to find her irresistible. But this was Clint. All she felt was flattered and completely turned on by his predatory look. She could have just thrown him to the ground and started to ride him like Zorro, but a part of her wanted to enjoy all the tension build up from a romantic night out.

With a groan, Clint stood, tugging on his jeans to loosen them in the crotch area. "I'll take a shower and be right out."

As he passed, he caught a whiff of her perfume and almost stopped. He saw Natasha smirk at his double take. "Playing with fire, Nat," he warned.

"What if I want to get burned?" she retorted.

And damn if his hard on just got harder at her come hither stare and seductive tone.

He grunted and moved past her, locking himself in the bathroom. He controlled his breathing before shedding his clothes and turning the water temp up high.

A cold shower wasn't going to cut it. So he'd have to take care of his problem another way.

As he dressed, Clint was looking through what tie to wear when he spotted the tie he had been wearing at the ball. The silver and blue one that Natasha had promised to rip off of him.

Hell, two could play at this game, even if he knew there would be no end result until the doctors okayed her. He did his tie, checked his hair and loaded his piece, and stepped out of the room.

He couldn't hide his own grin when he saw his lovers eyes fixate on the tie. Her pink lips parted and he saw her breathing quicken.

"Shall we?" Clint asked, pointing to the door.

Natasha's gaze sharpened. "You are an evil, evil tease Barton."

"I learned from the best," the archer replied, wrapping an arm around her and twirling her around. "Besides, turnabout is fair play."

Natasha made a grumbling sound, but decided not to argue, instead tugging him out of the apartment. "Come on Clint. I don't want you to tease me now. Just feed me."

"Hoo-ah!"

"Funny."

* * *

Dinner had been wonderful.

But then again, when you're an agent and half the time you don't have time for a full quality meal, anything where you can sit and eat more than one course was always an experience to be relished. The couple had gotten to eat entree, mains, and dessert as well. They had caught up on the little things – like Thor being surprisingly good at playing the xbox (when he didn't accidentally smash the controllers in his exuberance), Steve going on a series of dates with Bethany, and Bruce chasing Tony all over Stark tower when the billionaire had dyed his hair green.

Afterwards, both feeling affectionate, they had taken advantage of the nearby dance floor, swaying in each other's arms. Doing the 'couple-y' kind of things. At least, that's what Natasha had called it. Clint had protested, saying he was just doing the things he liked.

As they went up to their room, Natasha ogled her lover. He was as handsome as ever tonight, and the need to feel him against her again hit with the force of a tidal wave. Arousal flooded every thought and she felt herself get wet.

She bit her tongue to keep from moaning as Clint strode in front of her to the room. Damn, he had a fine body!

As soon as the door opened, Natasha pounced, pushing her lover inside and locking the door behind her.

"Nat-"

Clint was cut off by a desperate kiss that made his head spin. God, she was so fiery and passionate, and a surge of heat through him made him groan. Natasha's hands were wrapped around him tightly, and she was trying to lead him towards the bedroom. He followed without realising it, their mouths parting to admit the other. Tongues tangled and they both made little moans of pleasure.

It wasn't until they fell onto the bed that Clint seemed to come back to himself. With regret, he pulled away from Natasha's lips. Her mewl of protest was cute, and it made him regret this all the more. "Nat…wait-" he stilled her wandering hands tugging at his tie, "we can't do this. Your-"

"Hush," the redhead murmured, rolling them over and kissing him again. He made a sound of protest and she sat up, frowning. "Clint, you don't need to-"

"Your injury!" he protested. The guilt on his face made Natasha rethink her plan slightly. Pressing a finger to his lips, she got her panting under control. "It's fine Clint. I went for a check up before we left…the doctors cleared me for sex."

He looked a little skeptical, so she rose up on her knees, slid the thigh holster off and discarded it, before whipping the dress of and carelessly throwing it behind her. She heard him suck in a gasp when he saw her lace covered body and felt the evidence of his desire against her thigh. There was still conflict in his expression.

"Tasha, I don't want to make an injury worse," Clint said softly, a hand reaching up to trace over the scar.

Sighing in slight frustration, Natasha took his hand and gently placed it between her breasts. "It's fine. I promise. I want this. I want you. I need you so much…more than I think I ever realised until recently. Please, I…" she hesitated, unsure. "I want you to make love to me."

Clint's eyes softened and he ran a hand through her hair. He said nothing, making her a little nervous as he caressed over her face. "As you wish."

"Princess Bride fan?"

"I always thought that the Dread Pirate Roberts was pretty cool," replied Clint, returning the smile Natasha had turned his way. The tone of their gestures changed from hard and frantic to softer, affectionate. He sat up, bringing his partner with him and cupped her head to bring her lips back home to his own. He slowly began to caress her skin, paying special attention to obvious scars. When he felt her tense as he caressed over her newest on in her belly, he murmured, "Don't be ashamed. They're a part of you. And remember what we talked about? Being together doesn't mean just taking the good parts, but all of the package."

"I know," Natasha replied, pressing hot kisses to his lips, hoping he'd get the message. She unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off and throwing it off the bed. Her fingers trailed down the sculpted chest, briefly teasing his nipples, before following his happy tail down to her prize. He moaned as she cupped him through his slacks.

"God, Nat," he whispered, lowering his head to kiss across her collarbone. His breathing quickened when those smaller hands fumbled with his belt. Realising that he might hope to distract her from her task, Clint reached up to unclip the bra, savouring the way the lace looked against her creamy skin. It was Natasha's turn for her breathing to hitch when Clint slowly tortured her with wet kisses and little licks and nips all over her rosy nipples.

"Clint…" she moaned.

"Yeah baby?"

"I don't want to wait. I need you now. I can't be patient…over a month is enough," she said, sighing when the hot touches left her skin.

"I want to make you feel good."

"You do. Believe me you do, but I need you completing me. I've missed this," Natasha admitted, curling into his warm body and breathing in his scent as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Clint looked down and smiled, nodding his acquiescence. He hooked his fingers into the scrap of lace covering the crimson curls. In a slow, gentle movement, Clint rolled them so that he was above her, and slid the g-string down the long legs. "Beautiful…gorgeous…hell, there isn't a word to capture how amazing you look to me Tasha," he murmured. Natasha relaxed into the mattress as her lover laid open mouthed kisses over her torso while she felt his fingers inching up her legs to the slick opening at the apex of her legs.

When a finger unexpectedly entered her, Natasha gasped and arched up, sensation exploding across her pussy. "Yes…yes, this…" she moaned.

Her hands tugged Clint down, wanting to feel more than his hands. His lips seared across hers, possessive and yet tender.

"You are too dressed," Natasha protested breathily as another finger began to rub her inner walls. Fuck, it felt so good.

With a chuckle, Clint shucked his pants and boxers, leaving him hard and free to the open air. "Happy?"

"More than. I'll be even happier when you're in me," she retorted. She was going to smack that smirk right off his face if he didn't- OH! His thumb was now stroking teasingly over her clit.

"Uhn…ah…ohh…."

Clint didn't know where he came up with the self restraint not to just join their bodies together at last, but the way Natasha moaned and sighed and just _reacted_ to everything they did together. When those eyes locked with his, pleading, he finally relented in his teasing. He took a moment to taste the juices on his lips, groaning at the flavour. Edging forward, he eased into the slick opening. He damn near came as soon as the head of his cock was enveloped, and he pressed his body down, gathering Natasha in his arms. "Baby…feel so good. Never thought I'd feel this ever again," he choked out.

Natasha's eyes rolled back and she firmly held Clint to her. This was making love at its best. It could have been the worst sex in the world, and she wouldn't care if she didn't orgasm because the emotions coming out of both of them were so strong. As they moved in their own special rhythm, Natasha could feel her toes curl. So much tension while she healed boiled down to this.

It was so worth the wait.

As their bodies slowly shared their warmth, hips undulating as thick shaft brought pleasure to moist core, they began to kiss again, unable to stop, craving the connection.

It was no surprise that their slow love making drew out a long and soft climax. Natasha was panting and moaning as the crash of pleasure overwhelmed her, clenching around Clint's cock. "Ohh…ooh…yes…Clint," she said, arching up as her orgasm subsided.

Clint watched her as her release came. It was then and only then that he filled her with his hot release, breathing heavy and grunting out his satisfaction. They rolled so they were on their sides facing each other. They didn't move, skin to skin, sharing in such a precious moment.

"It only gets better each time, I swear it does," Natasha murmured.

Clint chuckled and kissed her forehead, feeling the slight sheen of sweat on her skin. "Yeah. I'm so glad we came out here. It feels so good not to worry. To just…love you."

"Mmm-hmm…" Natasha hummed. "I love what you bring out in me. I never knew what love or making love ever meant before you."

They stayed awake for a little while after that, content to bask in the afterglow. They didn't move, save for the little caresses to the others skin or the occasional kisses. There was more than enough to think about, and for once in both of their lives, it was mostly positive.

* * *

**A/N: So guys! What did you all think? I was initially going to cut off the scene just before they went off to dinner. But because I finished the chapter earlier than I've been putting stuff out lately, I decided to throw in the sex scene. **

**Please review and let me know how you found this one. The responses have been amazing. I agree, while Clint was a little OOC in the last chapter, I thought it was really needed. It was a really emotional scene for them both because this was the first time one of them had gotten hurt while they were 'together.'**

**Be on the lookout for MalMal86's one-shot! Should be done within the next week. **

**Oh! And don't worry, the vacation adventures continue next chapter. It's basically a big chapter on smut because I want to highlight the trust between these two now. Think blindfolds for one thing. :D**

**Don't forget to review!**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Hmm….under 20 reviews that time. So I'm doing something a little different in this chapter to see if I can't bulk up those reviews. But THANK YOU to those who DID review. You guys are seriously awesome. **

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings.** Fluff and Smut. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse.**

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 23**

* * *

_Arachne POV_

_From the databanks of BW 1.0_

_Day 3 of Vacation_

My two masters took me to what I have discovered is called a 'beach.' It is where land meets the ocean. They left me to make sure no unauthorised personnel made contact with their belongings. While I sat atop their towels, I observed them both entering the water. My masters share emotions with each other. That much I can tell. They have smiles on their faces and they are constantly touching each other.

The beach was undisturbed by strangers I can report. When I relayed that information to Miss Romanoff, she took Mister Barton with her deeper into the water. I noted that they both managed to lose their garments and their bodies were moving together in that odd way they had since the first day at staying at the hotel. They did that once in the water and then once out on the sand before me.

I computed they both forgot I was there.

I don't mind. I am like my guardian JARVIS. I do not speak of what I see except to my masters.

* * *

_Day 4 of vacation_

I mentioned the odd movements I observed yesterday to Miss Romanoff. She said I was not to report that to anyone and that she would make sure to protect my 'innocent' eyes. That is, _after_ I made a copy of what I observed and put it on a disc for her and Mister Barton.

I did not question the order. But as a high functioning robotic organism, I had to ask myself why they would want the recording when I heard them doing the same wavy movement things last night.

* * *

_Day 5 of vacation_

Miss Romanoff took me out as her guardian as we went and performed the human hobby of shopping. We went down Rodeo drive. All the shops here were pricy in accordance with my comparison of clothing on the human database 'internet.' But of course, as a good guardian, I did not mention this to my Mistress as she tried on all types of garments.

I was in her bag, and was meant to attack if a criminal decided to steal my Mistresses belongings.

I noted the total of purchases through Miss Romanoff's day. She bought two dresses, four pairs of shoes, two shirts, a skirt, and pants. They cost enough for a car. But she looked happy – almost joyous, like she had never had the pleasure of doing something like this before.

* * *

_Day 7 of vacation_

While I was guarding my masters belonging in the hotel room today, an employee of the hotel came in. But instead of cleaning like the lady with the short brown hair did before, this man moved to my masters bags and other belongings, and started to look through them.

Intruder!

I sent an alarm off to Miss Romanoff and scuttled across the floor as fast as my legs could carry me. I was beeping frantically, and I made sure to capture the intruder's face as he turned towards me.

_Click._

Got 'im.

I let my 'claws' unsheathe and I attached myself to his ankle and dug the points into there. He yelped and tried to shake me off, but little did he know that I was engineered not to let go of any active threat.

After minutes, in which the intruder tried to pry me off of him (much to his cursing despair), I heard my masters come in. They saw me and the intruder and I saw their faces turn cold.

Later, Miss Natasha came back and told me that I did the best job of preventing the employee of taking their possessions. Apparently the police came to arrest him and the manager of the hotel fired him. After her praise, she patted me and I leaned into it. My creator Mister Stark created touch centres on my body so I could be petted.

I liked proving my worth to my masters.

* * *

_Day 10 of vacation_

I do not mean to observe my masters when they do that strange wavy movements thing. But this time they didn't give me time to move from my post as sentry. Mister Barton had Miss Romanoff pinned against the door as soon as they entered. I could see their lower halves moving strangely. Neither look in pain, but Miss Romanoff is moaning and crying out as Mister Barton jerks his hips into her body.

Humans and their strange rituals.

I move off to rest underneath the television cabinet. Under there, perhaps, I can get some respite from the constant noise those two make. Although JARVIS has told me that Mister Stark and Miss Potts are much louder and that I shouldn't complain.

I'm not so sure.

Yesterday I observed Mister Barton painting Miss Romanoff with chocolate of all things and then eating it off her.

Wouldn't a shower have been simpler?

And then the day before that, it had been Mister Barton's time to make the loud noises as Miss Romanoff chained him to the bed with handcuffs and licked the area around his hips before bouncing atop him.

I do have to admire their stamina though.

* * *

_Day 12 of vacation_

Miss Romanoff is a bit sad today. I can tell. Mister Barton can tell as well. So he's trying to cheer her up, it looks like. They went to the beach again earlier, and now he is giving her a massage while they watch the television.

I can also hear them talking softly to each other.

They are switching languages just to amuse themselves every so often. From English to Spanish, Russian, Mandarin, and back again.

I know she may be sad because we are leaving soon.

But from my information based on human interaction, I sense she is morose because this vacation has been just about her and Mister Barton. I know from their files that both my masters are very sought after agents, the best at what they do. I know after this that they may be going back to work. And while I will be able to accompany my mistress, I know it is not the same.

My mistress will miss this peace.

She has Mister Barton though, and to my CPU, that makes all the difference.

* * *

**A/N: I was REALLY stuck on this chapter, which is why it's short and from Arachne's POV (that, and to do that many smut scenes was taking a toll on me…). I know Arachne was an unintentional perv, much like a child catching their parents having sex, and I thought that was funny. But regardless, I hope you all liked the different take on a chapter. Perhaps the next chapter will be longer if I get a few more reviews?**

**Yes, I know, I've turned into a review slut. **

**But I love the fact I've got so many reviewers/followers/favouriters. I just really want to know what you think.**

**Until next time! Myr.**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Wow! I asked, and I received! Thank you to the over 30 reviewers for the last chapter. I see a great majority of you really enjoyed seeing things from a fresh perspective. Thank you to the reviewer who raised the concern that they felt like that chapter wasn't personal enough. To make up for that, I hope you like this chapter. As promised…a blindfold is involved. **

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings.** Fluff and Smut. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse.**

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 24**

* * *

It was a cool, breezy night on the eve of their last day of their vacation. Natasha had retreated to the balcony, absentmindedly staring out over the lights of LA, a glass of wine in hand. Her little black dress was all that stood between the nipping wind and her gooseflesh skin.

When a deliciously hard, warm body pressed up behind her, Natasha smirked and leaned back. "Hey."

"Hey. What are you thinking about?" Clint asked.

She shrugged. "Nothing."

"Really? You had your thinking face on."

"Well, I am thinking, but it's blank. It's like I'm generating my own white noise so I don't have to think. Know what I mean?" the redhead asked softly.

"Yeah," Clint replied, wrapping his arms around his lover securely. "It's what I do so if I'm injured so I don't focus on it."

"Me too."

"Why though?" the archer asked, probing, but gentle. He had learned so much about the fiery woman in his embrace over the past two weeks, their level of intimacy on all levels just climbing higher. He knew better how to respond to her moods. Her emotions. And he knew that the same was true of Natasha's knowledge of himself.

Natasha took a sip of wine as she thought. After a few moments, she answered. "I've really enjoyed out time together. Just us, no reality."

"So have I."

"I was just thinking that I'm going to miss this. This oneness with you. Actually having time to watch silly movies and play at the beach, exercise for _fun_, not just for training or for a mission. I never thought that I could leave this line of work we do, but now…I can understand. I can see the appeal," Natasha mused, half-turning so she could see her partner's face. "Do you think that's stupid?"

"No. Never. I know how you feel. I'm going to miss having you all to myself," replied Clint easily, rubbing Natasha's shoulders in comfort. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she spoke again.

"But I know we have to return. As much as I like this. We're too good at our jobs, and I think I'll miss the rush of adrenalin in knowing we've made the world a better place by cleaning up the constant scum pools."

"Be honest, you'd miss using your weapons and wiles on your victims more than anything," teased Clint, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "I know I'd miss my bow."

"One day I'm going to wrestle out of you what you call your bow away from everyone," muttered the redhead. Thick, deft fingers tickled her ribs for that remark, causing her to squeal and try to do the same. Clint darted away from her fingers, grinning at her in challenge as he bounced to the bedroom. Smirking, the lithe woman followed him, jumping on him and straddling him, intentionally rubbing her hips over his.

"Mmm, look who's feeling playful tonight," murmured Clint softly.

"Only with you," promised Natasha, leaning down to press her lips against her lovers, the now familiar feel and taste of them intoxicating. Hands gripped her hips as they kissing turned into a hot and heavy make out session. Clint finally growled and rolled them over so he was atop his partners firm, curvy frame, breaking the kiss to ravage her neck with hickeys and light teasing kisses.

Natasha's toes curled as she arched into Clint's demanding mouth, moaning softly. "God I love it when you do that."

"I know."

"Nnn…huh?"

Natasha's bubbling arousal dimmed when Clint suddenly rolled off of her and went digging around in his suitcase. "What on Earth are you doing?" she demanded, petulant at having been denied more pleasure.

Clint grinned as he found what he was looking for and turned, proudly showing off the long black strip of cloth.

The redhead instantly remembered the conversation she and Clint had on their second day here. They had openly discussed each other's sexual fantasies. And Clint had been all too happy to fulfil her 'man handcuffed' and chocolate fantasies. When she had asked Clint, he had said he only had one big one. And that was to blindfold his partner.

She hadn't thought he was being serious!

The archer saw the startled look on his lovers face and hastened to reassure her, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Hey. I just want to give this a try," he murmured, stroking her leg.

"And if I don't like it?"

"Then we stop."

Clint could understand Natasha's reluctance. They relied on all their senses to get by. To lose one of them intentionally made yourself more vulnerable. Coaxingly, he said, "I only want to try it to see how much I can make you lose that control…make you feel incredible. I've heard that your senses of touch and hearing become enhanced."

"You make me feel incredible anyway," Natasha protested weakly.

Clint frowned and brushed a kiss over the swell of her breast peeking out from her dress. "It would mean so much to me that you trust me that much to blindfold you. Heck, I let you cuff me."

"You did."

"So it showed how much I trusted you with me," replied Clint softly.

Natasha frowned, then took a long, shuddering breath. "Okay. I'll give it a try, but the moment I feel like it's too much, you whip that thing off me, got it?"

With a nod, Clint carefully laid the blindfold over Natasha's closed eyes. He gently kissed the covered lids before trying the cloth behind her head. "Not too tight?"

"Fine."

"Hey, relax," the grey eyed man admonished gently. He stroked over the smooth leg again and hummed lowly. "I can feel you're too tense. I'm _not_ going to hurt you. Remember that. I just want to make everything I do to you seem better."

Natasha calmed her breathing after that, trying to focus on the feel of her lovers hand caressing her skin. She didn't like not being able to see him. After a little longer she let herself relax under the simple ministrations of her partner.

"That's it," Clint murmured, leaning over and brushing a kiss against those plump lips. The sudden contact made Natasha gasp.

"Wow!"

"What?"

Natasha shook her head slightly. "That was unexpected. It felt more electric somehow. You're right, I can sense you, but it's different than usual."

Clint grinned. She was beginning to get it. "Good. So I'll do it again."

Clint pressed forward with his kisses, moving slowly and deliberately in everything he did. He heard his partner's breathing deepen and turn ragged at the sensations he was causing. He could tell she was turned on by this – felt her hard nipples straining against the fabric of her dress, smelled the arousal in the air. He moved to her collarbone, methodically moving back and forth, his tongue flicking out on occasion to taste her skin.

A shudder travelled through Natasha's body when she felt Clint's talented mouth move lower. She felt hands sliding up, unhooking the halter top of her dress and gently pushing it down her body. "Oh," she murmured. What may have been a simple undressing turned into a whole new act of foreplay. With her sight gone, the exquisite feel of the silk sliding along her nerve endings was the most interesting, intimate touch, causing heat to pool in her abdomen.

The archer threw the dress over his shoulder and was glad to see that the creamy breasts were bereft of a bra.

"You know," he murmured lowly into his flame haired lovers ear, "next time I'm thinking of doing a little temperature play. One moment, my mouth would be nice and warm, and then a sip of cold water and it's a shock, an erotic sensation like no other."

"You incorrigible tease," said Natasha, reaching blindly for Clint's neck, and then finding it, to pull him down so his mouth hovered over her aching nipples. She could feel his hot breath, almost making the sensitive nubs stand up more.

Chuckling, Clint obliged and slowly closed his lips over a stiff peak, his eyes darkening when Natasha reacted explosively.

She cried out, bucking her hips up and carefully tugging on his hair. "Oh god, do that again!" she moaned.

"Double the sensation, yeah?"

"Fuck yeah."

Amused, Clint switched to the other nipple, swirling his tongue around it before gently playing with the bud in his teeth. The pleasure balanced on the point of pain, the slight roughness of the tongue a counterpoint to the sweet pleasure. Natasha's head was reeling and she arched into the contact, wanting more. She was wet and ready and she wanted him, and this teasing was driving her absolutely mad. Whining as her lover toyed with her breasts, she lost herself to the pleasure Clint could bring her.

Clint relented slightly, murmuring, "You're so pretty when you're wanton."

"And you're gorgeous when you're naked," replied Natasha breathlessly, "but even with this blindfold on I can tell you have way too many clothes on."

"As you wish," he whispered before rapidly divesting himself of his garments. Proudly naked and his member standing at attention, he pressed his whole body against Natasha's, revelling in her curves, the softness of her skin over her toned muscles. He marvelled at how well they fit together. So absorbed in his thoughts he almost missed the loud moan drawn from parted feminine lips.

"Oh god…I can feel you…_really_ feel you. It's like a furnace and I can feel…oh…it feels even _bigger _blindfolded," Natasha rambled, shifting her hips up so she could marvel of the texture of the cock against her thighs. Hot, heavy, desiring. She felt every ridge of his abs and the peak of his own nipples.

"That's a massive compliment coming from you."

"Pun intended?"

"Not intentionally," replied Clint, jerking his hips back and forth so the fabric of his lover's plain cotton panties rubbed against his length, gearing him up.

He melded his lips to hers again, drinking in every soft, feminine cry and whimper as he continued to tease her, caressing all her hotspots – that point under her knees that make her shake, suckling on the side of her neck, massaging over her hipbones – all the while testing his own patience.

When Natasha's pants got harder and more ragged, he stripped her of the last clothing barrier and rubbed himself against the soaked slit.

Her nails bit into his back as he asked, "Ready?"

"Everything you did to me guaranteed it," she replied.

Without further ado, Clint positioned himself and slowly slid into the sweet nirvana that had become his home. They had been having sex regularly over the vacation, but no matter how much they got, the feeling of completion and rightness never faded. They both gasped each other's names as Clint began to rock back and forth, taking charge, keeping it slow and tender. They were wrapped tightly around each other, lips, arms, legs, all in contact and holding on for dear life at the sensations.

Natasha clung to him unashamedly, her breath stolen from the overwhelming feelings wracking her frame. Everything felt so much hotter. Clint's length felt so much bigger within her, her vaginal muscles stronger as they clamped down on him.

"Oh…god…Clint," she moaned.

"Yeah baby, I know," he groaned in reply.

"Next time, I'm blindfolding you so you can react like I am," the redhead muttered.

"All yours," agreed Clint, swivelling his hips to hit her clit and g-spot in one action he had perfected in the ocean. A strangled cry was his gift.

Natasha felt orgasm approaching, everything seeming more powerful and faster than ever. Clint seemed to sense it too, holding her closer and speeding up the pace of his thrusts. She felt strung so tight, flying so high on sensation before she shattered. Pleasure burst from her core outwards, dragging a litany of Clint's name from her lips as the world ceased to exist.

Natasha came back to herself to hear Clint. He was whispering to her.

"C'mon Nat. Wake up baby. The blindfold is off."

The redhead's jade eyes snapped open to see her lover grinning down at her.

"That good, huh?" he asked cheekily.

Huffing out a laugh, Natasha reminded him, "Who did the same the other day with the handcuffs?"

"Touche. You just…went off like a firecracker," Clint said, gently easing out of her and rolling over so they were more comfortable. "It was good to watch. How's your throat feeling from all the screaming?"

"Good, but I should be asking you the same thing. You roared pretty loud in my ear just before I came," Natasha said, curling up to her lover's body. "That was _so_ good."

"Glad I suggested it?" Clint asked, kissing the top of her head and stroking her shoulder, basking in his own afterglow.

"Yes."

The archer made a content sound and murmured, "I'm honoured you let me blindfold you. Thank you for trusting me."

Natasha's voice was dead serious as she looked up into his eyes and said, "After this, I think it's safe to say you now have my absolute trust. You have all of me. I love you."

"I love you too Tasha." He grabbed the blanket and arranged it around them. "Now I think we should relax a bit."

"Just because I passed out for a minute we're not doing round two tonight?"

The wolfish grin he shot her way made arousal tingle in her nether regions again. "I didn't say sleep. I said relax. And I said nothing about not having round two…or three…or four."

* * *

**A/N: There is my gift to you all. A smutty chapter that is WAY earlier than usual. I hope it all lived up to your expectations.**

**Please review! I loved the ones I got for the last chapter. But I'd love much more. I will be eternally grateful if we get over 800 reviews. I might even give out another prize.**

**THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER**. I have one more chapter and an epilogue to do.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: **Guess the smut wasn't so hot, huh? Oh well. I'm determined to get 800 reviews, so hopefully this is the chapter that will bulk that up. This is really just a tidy up before the epilogue. And the epilogue is going to be awesome, that I promise. You know why? It involves a true HEA situation. Who can guess what I'll do?

**Rating: **M/NC-17

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse.**

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Chapter 25**

* * *

The couple left LA happy, albeit knowing they were going to miss the holiday aura that had settled over their relationship. Another point for self-satisfaction was that they both knew that they had _thoroughly_ christened their hotel room all over. Even the balcony and the dining table.

The only thing Natasha didn't like was that the hickeys were resisting, for the most part, the application of makeup.

"You've been applying that foundation ever since we left LA," Clint said, admonishingly.

"And we're five minutes from getting back home. You don't think Tony's gonna not make a comment about it?"

"He'll just be jealous because Pepper doesn't let him do the same," teased Clint, wrestling the tube of makeup off his partner. "Don't forget, you're the Black Widow. Just remind them of that little fact if any of the team decides to tease you about it."

Natasha lightly slapped his arms before leaning back against him. The benefits of being delivered back home in the limo.

"So what now?" she asked.

The archer wrapped his arm around his lover and said quietly, "Well, I was hoping that we'd move whatever you need from your apartment up to mine. So that way we don't have to go back and forth between the floors to get clothes."

"That sounds perfect," replied Natasha, smirking at the thought of their possessions merging into one space.

It sounded good to Clint too. Although he had shared an apartment with Bobbi when they were together, he hadn't really shared his life with anyone else since. Natasha filled that void, made it so much more than he could imagine. They clicked, they fit, they made sense. As the limo pulled into the garage at the tower, a grin crept over his face. "Hey Nat, look."

Natasha lifted her head, her eyes widening. "Oh no they didn't."

"They did."

"It was only two weeks!" the redhead exclaimed.

The rest of the Avengers had gathered in front of the elevator, a banner in their hands proclaiming 'WELCOME BACK!' There was a spider on one side of the banner, a hawk on the other. They were all grinning in their direction.

"So much for subtle," murmured Clint.

"Huh. They must be really bored," noted Natasha. She self-consciously rose a hand to the half covered love bites, but Clint took her hand and kissed it. His eyes told her not to worry.

So she didn't. She trusted him that much.

They stepped out of the limo and were instantly tackled by a stampeding Thor. His laughter boomed around the space as he cried out. "I am so glad to see you my friends! It has been a lonely existence without you here with us!"

"Tony! Did you give him red cordial again?" Natasha yelled, wriggling around, trying to get out of the burly grip of the thunder god.

"Guilty," Tony said unashamedly, grinning.

Finally getting out of Thor's grip (Clint wasn't so lucky, he was still Thor's plushie), the redhead marched up to the rest of her team. "What's up with the banner?"

"Steve's idea. Thought it'd be a nice welcome home for you," Bruce explained. "Things have been interesting with you and Clint gone."

"Interesting how?"

"Five days ago I chased Stark down every floor of the tower after he dyed my hair hot pink while I was sleeping," Steve said, frowning at the memory before smirking at his friend. "He definitely got in his daily exercise that day. I think everyone heard him screaming for me not to get him all the way down."

"Did you get him?" asked Natasha.

"Did he ever!" complained Tony. "He got rid of all my nice shirts and replaced them with plaid ones!"

"In my defence, I gave your shirts back to you once you promised never to dye my hair again," Steve pointed out.

"Whatever. What I'm more interested in, little miss spider, is how come you have _that_ many hickeys on your neck. That vacation give you a little sexual healing?" Tony asked mischievously. "They're even showing through your makeup…must be hickeys on top of hickeys, right?"

Natasha blushed, because he was right. That had been the only way Clint had managed to do that particular trick. She slugged him in the shoulder and said lowly, "Mind your own business."

"Or else?"

The challenge made the spy smirk. "Or else I'll shove a box of gay porn magazines underneath your bed and let Pepper 'accidentally' find 'your' stash," she threatened.

"Oooh."

"Ouch," Bruce and Steve chorused.

Finally being released from Thor, Clint made his way over to the group. "I think he cracked all my ribs. He's like an enthusiastic puppy," he groused.

"You should have seen him while you two were gone. He moped around with no one to verse him in burping contests and no one to challenge him in swordsmanship. The only thing that kept us from going crazy was the constant stream of Disney movies," Steve said.

"I think I have that song 'Circle of Life' permanently tattooed in my brain," muttered Tony.

The couple laughed at that before Natasha noticed something. "Where's Pepper?"

"Oh she's…been a bit sick lately," Tony said dismissively.

"Really?" asked Natasha curiously. Instinct was telling her something was up.

"Well, it started right after you left," Bruce added thoughtfully.

"And she's been saying for the weeks before then that she's been a little queasy," Steve chipped in.

"Miss Potts did get sick when I brought a new Epigshkin from Asgard. She said the smell set her off and I heard her retching in the rest room. Poor woman," Thor said.

Clint and Natasha looked at each other, stunned. They put the clues together and came up with one conclusion. Natasha looked at Tony, who looked a little confused himself. "What has she told you Tony? It's not like Pepper to suddenly be sick."

Rubbing the back of his neck, the billionaire replied, "She thinks it might have been something she ate. But we've been eating together most of the time and I haven't gotten sick, so it might be a new flu. Nothing abnormal has happened lately, so I'm pretty sure little gremlins haven't invaded her stomach and thrashed her systems."

Clint shook his head, knowing where this was going. He stayed silent, watching his partner.

"Tony," Natasha began quietly. "Is there any chance at all that Pepper may be pregnant?"

The question had all the men stumped. Tony's mouth dropped a little, and you could see him thinking hard. "I…hell, I'm not sure. I mean…"

And then he fainted.

His team stared down at his prone form in silence.

"Wow," murmured Bruce.

"He's not dead, is he?" Thor asked worriedly.

"I think he's just in shock from the thought he might be a dad," Clint said soothingly, patting Thor's shoulder.

"We should really get him up off the ground," Steve said.

None of them made to move, still staring. After a little while, they all began to laugh. "Guess none of us really feels like it. But still, that's pretty wimpy to faint at the thought of having a kid. Clint didn't," Natasha pointed out, smirking.

Thor finally found his compassion and got Tony off the ground, slapping him awake.

"Huh, what?" Tony mumbled.

"Come on Tony. Let's put that pregnancy machine to test on Pepper," Bruce announced, too cheerful, and guided his friend away, the team following close behind.

* * *

A week later, Clint and Natasha laughed themselves stupid as Arachne replayed (for the 30th time) the moment in which Tony found out he was going to be a father. Natasha had activated her little pet spider as Bruce had called the team back down to the lab after Pepper's blood test. Pepper had been disbelieving, but had consented to the test anyway.

They had all trekked down. Bruce greeted them with a neutral face. Nothing could be gleaned from it, his expression too tightly controlled.

Pepper had been surprisingly calm. It had been Tony who fidgeted and paced around the lab while Bruce had held them all in suspense.

And then Pepper had said she was ready.

Bruce had announced with just the faintest smirk playing at his lips that the test confirmed that Pepper Potts was pregnant, and that Tony Stark was now facing impending fatherhood.

Tony had fainted.

Again.

But this time Steve had caught him as Pepper rolled her eyes at her partner.

As the clip finished, Clint chuckled, "Seeing that never gets old."

"Nope. I'm actually really excited. I hope that kid is a happy, healthy, hell-raiser," Natasha replied.

"It's going to be helped along by their Aunt Natasha, no doubt," teased Clint.

"And their Uncle Clint is going to show them just the right way to shoot that toy bow," the redhead bantered back, pecking him on the lips. "I'm happy for them both really. I think the timing could have been a little better, but Tony's matured a lot. A baby will really help with his maturity level."

"Not much. But enough."

"Enough," agreed Natasha.

"You know what I'm looking forward to once the baby is here? Getting training in handling it," Clint mused.

"You make it sound like a SHIELD mission. But yes. I can agree. I think when it comes time for us…we'll hopefully have enough babysitting experience under our belts," Natasha murmured. Her voice was tender as she mentioned having children of her own, and it made Clint's heart leap excitedly in his chest.

"Someday," he promised her.

Natasha sighed contentedly and stretched. Her lover's hands landed on her back and began to massage. Purring, she pushed up into it. "We've been at it like rabbits lately and you still want more?"

"You, my dear Black Widow, are a very sexy and desirable woman," Clint whispered huskily.

"And you, my lovely Hawkeye, are a very talented and handsome man," Natasha flirted in return, grinning back at him.

There was that familiar darkening of his eyes that was about to consume her. She was just thinking of pouncing on him when the Avengers klaxon went off. They both growled in frustration and Clint spat, "Cock-blocked by the fricking alarm."

"I'm just as pissed off. Let's go. The sooner we kick someone's ass we the sooner we can come back and you can finish what you started," the lithe woman reminded, rolling off the bed and rushing towards their custom wardrobe. They suited up, arming themselves with their favourite weapons. It was all a form of foreplay inside of their own minds, seeing their significant other suiting and arming themselves to the teeth. Natasha considered taking a whip, holding it out just to see Clint smirk. Clint returned the favour, slowly stroking down the string of his bow and seeing Natasha lick her lips at the action.

"Okay, we have to stop or else we'll be late," Natasha said, shaking herself out of her desire.

"We can always…not go," Clint said temptingly.

"And then they'll know what we've been doing. No way. Besides, I'm looking forward to knocking out some teeth to add to my collection," argued the redhead.

"Well don't let me get in the way of you and some teeth," the archer joked.

They left their apartment and headed up to the helipad where their own jet waited for them. Ironman was hovering around just as Steve got in.

"Last ones again!" Tony shouted down at them.

"Let's not have this argument again. You know I'll win again," Clint warned the hovering superhero.

"Aw, you're no fun Barton."

Shaking his head, Clint headed in and turned back, hand reaching out for his love.

She grinned and grabbed his hand, looking forward to the adventure.

As long as they were together, they'd face anything.

Even Tony's endless puns.

* * *

**A/N: OMG! I'm almost done! This is the last 'official' chapter. But there WILL be an epilogue. **

**I hope you all liked the fic. And you know the best way you all can let me know about that? Leave heaps and heaps of reviews. :D The more reviews I get, the better the epilogue is XD. **

**The epilogue probably won't make it out until around the weekend because I have an assignment due on Friday. But it will be well worth it, trust me. **

**In case I don't mention it in the epilogue, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ALL THOSE PEOPLE WHO REVIEWED THIS STORY, TO THOSE WHO ADDED IT TO THEIR FAVOURITE LIST, AND TO THOSE WHO PUT IT ON ALERT. The numbers are huge, and for that I thank you all. My gratitude is MASSIVE.**


	26. Epilogue

**A/N: WHOOOO-HOOOO! OVER 800! Okay, this is officially awesome. Thank you thank you thank you x 1 million. I'm so excited. **

**And now, we come to the end of a four month journey through my first massive story on the site. I am so honoured to be so highly rated and reviewed, and in general, loved. I love and appreciate all the attention that has been shown on this fic and me as an author. **

**I originally intended to make a massive epilogue, but I tried and it didn't feel right. Besides, this epilogue leaves room for a sequel or fics about the kids :D**

**Rating: **M

**Characters: **Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Clint Barton (Hawkeye). Rest of the Avengers cast.

**Warnings: **All the usual warnings.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Avengers franchise. I'm just using them for my twisted muse.**

* * *

**No Time for Regrets – Epilogue**

* * *

**Five years later.**

* * *

"Thomas Bruce Stark! If you pull on my son's hair one more time I'll show you _exactly_ why your father is so scared of me!"

The mini-Tony looked up with a terrified look before relenting on the reddish-brown stands clenched in his hand and patted the head they were attached to.

"Better," Natasha said, leaning back down in her deck chair while Clint chortled in the chair right next to her.

"It's so amusing when you do that. You threaten him about, what, three times a week?"

"And it never fails every time."

The couple were on their apartment balcony supervising the two little boys playing in the portable sandpit. Clint made sure that his son was fine after Tony and Pepper's sons bit of rough play before turning to gaze upon the redhead beside. Appraising blue grey eyes looked contentedly over his partner. Natasha was beautiful as always, but Clint had never found her so desirable as when she was pregnant. She was in the middle of her sixth month of her second pregnancy and he could rarely take his eyes off of her. Her pale skin glowed, her hair seemed to be fuller and bouncier and when they participated in the horizontal mambo she was far more responsive than usual.

Seeing her usually trim and taut stomach grow large with child had fascinated the archer the first time around. Doubly so now. She was much bigger at this stage than her previous pregnancy with their son – but that was to be expected considering that this time it was twins.

"Alex! Come here for sunscreen!" Natasha called.

Their little two year old looked up and nodded, pattering over to them on little feet.

The parents watched proudly as he came towards them.

Alexander Steven Barton looked exactly like Clint, right down to the facial expressions. The only thing he got from his mother was the reddish tinge in his brown hair and her pale skin. "Okay mama," he said sweetly, presenting himself obediently.

Natasha tried to sit up, but Clint held out a hand, stilling her movements. "Relax, I'll do it."

As Natasha watched the love of her life tend to their little boy, her heart melted all over again like it did every day when she saw them together. Seeing father and son interact softened even the hardest heart – Nick Fury had definitely been no exception. She was pretty sure she still had that blackmail tape where the usually stoic SHIELD director had cooed over a week-old Alex.

Alex had come along unexpectedly after the Avengers had to take on Ultron, a creation of sometime member Hank Pym. She and Clint had decided to get married a few days right after the event, knowing that they could have lost their lives all too easily in the violent skirmish. They went to the nearest city hall with the rest of the Avengers team and exchanged matching platinum rings, making them Mr. and Mrs. Barton. It wasn't extravagant, but to the couple, it had been perfect.

Their overactive honeymooning in Fiji had resulted in the conception of Alex.

Impending motherhood had freaked Natasha out until about the fifth month into her pregnancy. She finally decided to go with the flow. Not only could she eat the most awesome things (deep fried Mars bars and roasted sweet potatoes...morning, noon, and night), but the pregnancy hormones at about that time made her damn near insatiable. So much so that she had gone up onto the helicarrier while Clint was finishing off the paperwork needed for their leave, and in full view of about five agents, dragged her husband to the nearest supply closet to screw his brains out.

When Alex had finally been introduced to the world, Natasha had been the envy of every other woman on the maternity floor.

Not only had Clint been oddly calm, when Natasha had been cursing him out he had merely nodded and agreed. Then, after only three and a half hours after she had arrived at the hospital, Natasha had given birth to a healthy baby boy. He came out, was silent for about two seconds before he proudly showed off his developed lungs. It was a short but exhausting labour for the redhead, and when she heard her baby's cry for the first time peace and joy had flooded her.

Unlike Tony (who had fainted as soon as he saw his own son slip out after a 12 hour labour), Clint had let tears slip from his eyes the first time he saw Natasha holding their baby boy. When he eventually got to hold him, he was so emotional that he couldn't even speak. He had hopped up on his wife's bed and held his family close for the first time.

Now here they were two years later and ready to welcome fraternal twins. On their last visit to their local OB/GYN they had finally given in to their curiosity and asked for the sexes of the babies.

To the spies delight, there was one girl and one boy waiting to be born.

Bringing herself back to the present, Natasha smiled as Alex leaned up to give her a kiss on the cheek before running back off to the sandpit to play with Thomas.

"I _cannot_ wait until these babies are out," she muttered, fanning herself with her sunhat. It was hot, and carrying two babies was exacerbating the heatwave currently taking over Manhattan.

"Me either, just so I can play with them. But you're so pretty with my babies," Clint replied, slathering sunscreen across his palms and tenderly rubbing it over her swollen stomach. In response to their father's touch, Natasha gasped when she felt two different sets of feet drum lightly against her sides. "Damn these kids are going to be soccer players by the way they're kicking," she complained.

"Then maybe we should give them soccer names. Rinaldo Barton?" Clint kidded.

Natasha mock-punched him in the shoulder. "Over my dead body. I know it's your turn to pick the names, but please make them not hate us when they're older."

"You know how we were discussing the names last night?" her partner asked. She nodded. He went on, stroking Natasha's bare belly, "I was thinking for our little girl that she should be called Liliya Natali Barton. What do you think?"

Natasha's eyes glowed with happiness. "That's so adorable. It sounds like a strong name while still being feminine. I like that one, that's a keeper."

"So we got one we can agree on. The next one I'm thinking for the boy...I'm not sure you'll like it. I mean, I like the name, but I'm worried you won't," Clint said. Natasha gripped his hand upon hearing the slight uncertainty in his voice. He explained, "I think you'll think it's boring."

"Why on earth would you think that?"she questioned with a frown.

"A lot of people have the name Christopher," replied Clint. "Christopher Luka Barton."

Natasha shook her head slightly. Her husband could be adorably pouty sometimes. "You're nuts for thinking I won't like it. It's a good name. I like the names of all our children. Alexander, Liliya, and Christopher. With names like that, our kids are going to be unstoppable."

"They'll take over the world if we're not careful," bantered the archer, relieved his wife liked the names he picked.

They settled back to watch as their son and his best friend continued to amuse themselves. It was remarkable to see how they grew and learned through play. The differences between the boys were also interesting. Thomas only liked to build sandcastles just so he could destroy them. Alex joined in if he felt like it, but he preferred to create landscapes in which he could create the cities, roads, and airports. He even had his own figurines of his parents that he would place in the various vehicles and have them 'save the world.'

But like his father, Thomas Stark was also smart, even too much for his own good at times. When he had been at the tender age of one, he had managed to undo all of the toddler locks in Pepper and Tony's penthouse and got into a jar of marshmallow whip. Tony saw his son's potential and took him down to the garage a few times a month to show the little guy his way around. Thomas in turn would show Alex what he had learned. Alex was like a sponge, absorbing everything and regaling his parents with stories about his day. Even then, he was more a dreamer than an intellectual like Thomas.

"Daddy! Have a look at what I made!"Alex cried out.

"I'm comin' buddy," Clint replied, getting up and grinning at Natasha. "He's probably made another monster for me to shoot with the toy bow again."

"Hey I get a thrill out of watching my two favourite boys," she replied.

They shared that secret, loving smile before the archer went to participate in his sons game of make believe.

Natasha's fond smile didn't fade as Clint swept up Alex in his arms, holding him high over his head and yelling with Alex as they escaped from the 'monster.' Not only was Clint a great lover and husband, but fatherhood suited him well, and in fact, made him a better person. He had mellowed slightly, but on the job, he was as fierce and as accurate as ever. He had even gotten Alex three bows. One for play now as a child, one for his early teen years, and one for an adult. He was affectionate but firm. It had been Natasha who found it hard not to spoil her child.

Rubbing her belly as one of the twins moved around, Natasha called out, "Xander!"

Xander was Clint's pet 'hawk.' Like Tony had done for Natasha with Arachne, Tony Stark had decided to make a little mechanical pet for Clint as well so the couple could communicate when they were apart. Another benefit for them was that their mechanical avatars served as mini-spies all on their own. Arachne was actually on a mission standing as Natasha's replacement, gathering information on the US embassy in Greece. As the robo-bird flew over to her, Natasha asked, "Can you log down the names for our twins?"

"Certainly Madam Barton. May I pass on the information to JARVIS?" Xander replied.

"Go ahead. What's new with Arachne?"

"She has almost completed her task. Agent Cromwell assures that he'll bring her back safe and sound."

"He better," muttered Natasha, "because pregnant or not I'll kick his ass if he doesn't."

"I'll pass on the message. Anything else?" Xander asked.

Staring out at the scene unfolding – Clint letting himself be tackled by Alex and Thomas – the redhead knew instantly what she wanted. "Can you film this and put it on disc later?" Because after all, all the happy memories should be recorded to look at when times got tough.

Even with twins on the way and a busy career as spy and Avenger, Natasha wouldn't change a thing. She had finally bloomed into the person she had always wanted to be. Happy, healthy, and with the love of a man who was her soulmate in every way.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's it. For now. I may do some one-shots when I'm bored about our favourite couple and their children. (Can you imagine the messes they'd get into? LoL!). **

**My gratitude goes out to all of those who have put their time into reading and reviewing this story, as well as following it and putting it (and me) on favourite lists. It's been an honour writing it, and I'm very proud of it. Thank you is not words enough for what I want to express. **

**Hopefully I'll see you guys in my next fics.**

_**Finis**_**. **


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